A Girl Named Hermione Granger: Year Four
by blu-babe
Summary: Hermione Granger is about to attend her fourth year at Hogwarts; and though her secret world has grown, the upcoming year is filled with plots and mysteries. With danger and the need to prove oneself, can she keep everything together? T for language
1. So Begins The Summer I Was Fourteen

A Girl Named Hermione Granger: Year Four

Chapter One: So Begins The Summer I was Fourteen

Dedicated to someone very special;  
>a loved one of my loved one;<br>who doesn't actually know I write fanfiction,  
>and will never read the stories,<br>but she's in my thoughts.  
>And I feel a little better,<br>just by writing this little bit.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters (excepting Julie, and any others that are not from the actual series,) but I'd like to think I own the brain fart that led me to decide I should re-write the whole series from a twisted perspective and make the actual characters behave oddly. That is, I own _my_ brain fart.

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><p>Hermione Granger was not much for plotting, as anyone who knew the feisty bushy haired girl would tell you. She was, however a planner. And at this very moment, the fourteen year old brunette was planning something very important. She was seated in a small fast food restaurant with her elder sister, Julie Granger, poking her greasy hamburger with slight distain.<p>

At school she would eat just about anything, though she did tend to gravitate towards slightly more vegetarian meals, but this food was not up to the quality of the food served at her school. A fact, which in itself, ought to alert you that she is not normal; nor does she attend a normal school. No, Hermione Jean Kathrine Granger was a witch, and she attended the renowned and acclaimed school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hogwarts.

And as of this moment, as she toyed with her food across her sister, she was remembering her train ride back to London that very afternoon. Planning how to approach her wizard father, and secure her summer freedom. You see, she had been grounded; grounded for helping a convict escape on the back of a dangerous magical beast, grounded for jinxing her own father, and most importantly; grounded for letting someone in on a secret.

She was not worried, however, that she would remain in such a state. For she had learned, from her oldest wizard friend, that her own father had played part in spilling this secret as well.

Julie, a thirty-one year-old witch with straight brown hair and lively green eyes, watched her younger 'sister' from across the table and smiled. "Enjoy your freedom, tonight you go into lock down." She had, in the past, sympathized with Hermione whenever her father tried to punish her; but this time she was on his side.

Hermione cracked her neck before leaning back in her seat comfortably, "No, I don't think so." She said confidently, earning a look of pure confusion from her elder sister. "I was, but that will change." She refused to say anything more, as they finished their meal and began the long drive to Spinner's End, where she resided with her father.

Hermione kept her face schooled as they parked in front of his house, which was visible only to those privy of its existence, and did not even flinch as her father stepped out to great them, and Julie placed a kiss on his cheek. It did not bother her, to see her sister kiss her father, for Julie was not _actually_ her sister.

Hermione toted her school trunk into the three story tall house, remaining silent as she returned to the car once more to fetch the cage of her pet owl Archie, whom had his head tucked under his wing, and the basket containing her large ginger half kneazle cat, Crookshanks.

The very moment she had settled her pets into her room, and thrown open the window to relieve the stuffy air, she bounded down the stairs two at a time and entered the kitchen casually, hoping her father would not notice the slight flush of excitement on her cheeks. She needed to be calm and collected, if she were to best him.

"Father," she tried to flatten her voice, though it betrayed her with a breathy quality, "I wish to be ungrounded." It often helped, when dealing with Severus Snape, to phrase a demand in the form of a request; or at least, it was something she had learned from him since her eleventh birthday three years ago. _He_ did it all the time.

Severus looked up from the newspaper he was perusing, and raised a dark eyebrow at her demanded request. His dark eyes locked onto hers; something he would never be used to, as it was the only definitive trait she had inherited from himself. "And, pray tell, why should you be let off without punishment?" He questioned, faintly amused by her antics. He had been expecting her to approach him about this, though he had thought it would take her at least a week.

Hermione cleared her throat, "I had the loveliest – _most interesting_ – conversation on the train just this afternoon." She casually prowled over to the counter at which her father was standing, "With Draco – and Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle." She paused at the end of her list of names, and saw her father shift almost imperceptibly.

He applauded her cunning, he really did. She was coming across more Slytherin every day. "Is that so? What about?" He turned his gaze back to the paper in his hands, pretending to be thoroughly interested in a photo of the Minister for Magic giving a speech.

"About how four of them over heard a careless conversation, between two others in the halls of the dungeons." She couldn't fight down the smirk that tugged at her lips. Summer freedom was so close she could almost taste it.

Severus bit the inside of his lip to keep from cursing in front of his only child. She had him, and she knew it. Her grounding had been entirely the product of her allowing their secret to become known to someone, without having actually said anything herself. Whereas he, the responsible adult, had carelessly engaged his godson in a conversation in the middle of an insecure location, and inadvertently informed four students whom were poised to do more damage than they could guess.

He could argue, state that as the parent, he was perfectly able to inform whomever he should so please, however that would never bode well. His daughter was as stubborn as he was, and twice as difficult as her mother had ever been. "Curfew is ten." He stated calmly, flipping the page of his paper as she dashed out of the room in an exuberant manner. He briefly allowed himself to wonder what was going to happen this year, but he brushed the thought aside quickly. With a fourteen year old daughter, and a thirteen going on fourteen year old godson, whom would be staying for nearly a _month_, he didn't want to think of the possibilities.

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><p>Hermione reclined on her bed, enjoying the summer heat that seeped through the house, as she flipped through a copy of the Daily Prophet. She had obtained her freedom from her grounding two days ago now, and hadn't left the house since. There wasn't much she could do in this little town; with fear looming over her like a dark cloud. She was going to have to put on a brave face and go somewhere though; being in stasis was driving her mad. She hadn't had a single day of doing nothing since the summer before.<p>

She rolled off her comfy bed and rose to her full height, which wasn't very impressive, but she liked to think she was growing, and walked over to her dresser. It was rather lacking, and most of the clothes she did own were hand-me-downs from Sarah, and therefore a little more revealing than she would like.

She pulled a pair of shorts and a tank top from the top drawer, and quickly changed out of her pajamas. She picked up her purse and a hair tie and threw her wildly bushy hair into a pony tail as she headed down the stairs. She looked around the main floor for her father, and found him in his study, pouring his attention over a bubbling cauldron.

"I'm going out." She stated factually, gaining his attention. As he looked up, briefly, from his cauldron to acknowledge her, he did a double take and nearly dropped the vial in his hand. "Not like that, you're not." He said quickly, placing the vial into a wooden rack before he could spill any of the undoubtedly expensive ingredients inside.

Hermione looked down at her clothes with a slight frown. It's true that this is not what she would have preferred, as the shorts only reached halfway to her knees, and the tank top was held up by only two small strips of elastic. But it was, by far, the most conservative outfit she had at the moment. "It's either this or my school uniform." She said calmly, almost wishing she _could_ wear her uniform.

Severus was torn, he had granted his daughter the right to leave the house if she wished, and he had just _assumed_ she had more clothes. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that she had grown nearly three inches since last summer, because of her adventures with time and aging herself needlessly via the time-turner. He would need to have Julie take her clothes shopping.

"Surely you must have _something_," he fished, wishing mildly that this was her idea of a practical joke. He certainly would not let her run around so under dressed when Draco was staying.

She laughed at his insistence, "Believe me, if you don't like _this_, you will wish to burn everything else Sarah has given me." Her laughter only increased as the colour drained from his face at the implication.

Severus really wasn't sure how to react to that thought. He could not have her going outside in her school uniform, and he couldn't have her going out like _that_. The attention she got from Draco was bad enough; he didn't want to deal with any muggle boys chasing after her.

Hermione watched the expressions on her father's face change rapidly with his thoughts and she fought back more laughter. "I'd like to go to the shopping center and buy some new clothes."

Severus shook his head, "That will have to wait until Julie's here to take you out. I'm sure I have a more…appropriate…shirt you may wear. Wait here." He flicked his wand absent mindedly at the ladle resting in the cauldron, and it began stirring the potion, three turns clockwise, two anti-clockwise, repeating every three seconds, as he slipped past her and headed upstairs.

He returned with a deep green shirt that was old and splotched with tiny scorch marks; no doubt from a potion that had bubbled over. It had a faded football in the bottom right corner, and it was much too large for her. However, she accepted it from him as he stepped back into his office. "I'm afraid that's all I've got that will fit you –" Hermione looked at him with a quirked eyebrow, "Fit me? Dad, it's big enough to be a dress," She held it in front of herself to prove her point, and the hem fell half way to her knees, covering her shorts completely. "Just tuck it in. I need to get back to this now Hermione." His attention was once more focused on the cauldron on his desk, and she was dismissed.

She pulled the shirt on with a sigh and tucked it into her shorts on one side, before heading out the front door. She felt, if possible, more ridiculous in the oversized shirt. It wasn't particularly bad, overall, and if it hadn't been so large she would have rather liked it, but she felt like one of the poor children who had nothing but hand-me-downs.

She reached into her purse and pulled out the small mp3 player she had received for Christmas two years before, putting in her ear buds. Once the music was playing, she stuffed her hands in her pockets and set out, walking down the street, looking for something to entertain her.

By the time she had reached the middle of town, she had decided to treat herself to some ice cream, only to remember she had not had time to change over any of her galleons into muggle money. She cursed to herself as she made her way to the park; it was the only place she could think of that was actually free.

When she walked in through the opening in the fence, she discovered a row of tables set up under large umbrella's, surrounded by adults and children alike. She debated momentarily, going over to see what was going on, and decided that it certainly couldn't hurt.

As she got closer she pulled out an ear bud so she could listen to the voices, and she finally understood what was going on. It was a summer sports league. She walked up to one of the adults, a volunteer wearing a bright orange tee shirt, "Hello, is this open to everyone?" She asked hopefully. This could be just the thing to fill her time this summer.

The volunteer smiled down at her and nodded, "Yes, it's open for everyone. You just have to bring back a form filled out by your parents." He handed her a form, and she looked it over. "Where do I bring it when it's filled out?" A summer football league sounded rather amusing.

"Just back to the park here, we'll be out for the next week collecting forms. You'll have to supply your own equipment. There's a list of what you'll need on the back." Hermione nodded once and stepped back a bit as she noticed the looks she was getting from everyone close enough to have heard her.

The kids that were the age she ought to have been were whispering amongst themselves, and she caught snippets of what they were saying. "…that's that girl who said she lived in that run down wreck of a house, isn't it?" "…totally is, look at her ratty clothes! I bet she doesn't even _have_ parents." "And I doubt she'll be able to afford the equipment too."

She clenched her fists, crushing the form she was holding, and clenched her jaw to keep from reacting to the whispers; but her control was lost as she heard a girl with golden blonde hair, and a very pure-blood _type_ attitude, say out loud, "You don't look like you'd be very good. I certainly don't want you on _my_ team."

Hermione spun to face the other teenagers and growled, "I do not live in a run-down wreck of a house; I most certainly _DO_ have parents, and I wouldn't want to be on the same team as a _twig_ like _you_!" She walked away feeling rather proud of herself, knowing that they were gaping after her. She was not the same, meek, little girl she had been two summers before, and she would make sure it was known.

* * *

><p>"Absolutely not." Severus didn't look up from his dinner as his daughter held a permission form towards him. It was out of the question, to allow a young witch or wizard to play sports with muggles; it put the muggle children at a great disadvantage, at least, that was his excuse.<p>

Hermione dropped the form in the middle of the table, and threw down her fork. "Why not? It's just a summer league, it's not like they'll expect me to join the regular season." She had only been mildly interested until now. Having her father refuse flat out was rare, and she found it only made her more desirous of what he was refusing. This, she supposed, could be attributed to the fact that she was now a teenager.

His eyes flickered up from his plate momentarily, but they did not linger on the paper, "You would have an unfair advantage over the other children. And what would Draco do when he comes to stay?" He almost smirked at the indignant sigh his daughter gave.

"He can do his own thing; we're not joined at the hips!" She picked her fork up moodily, and jabbed at the steak and kidney pie on her plate. "I should hope not," Severus replied after a moment of internal debate, and her face became instantly red at the implication of such things.

She shot out of her seat, spluttering and unable to come up with a retort, and she left the room in a rush. He watched her go, his smug feeling fading as he realized exactly _what_ he had implied. His eyes dropped to the innocent piece of paper resting on the table and he sighed. Perhaps it would be a _good_ thing for her to have a diversion while Draco was around; lest they do end up attached at the hips. He was definitely not ready to deal with _that_ just yet.

He picked up the paper and looked it over. It was going to require some fibbing; as he could not obviously give his own address, nor should he place his own name as her guardian. He stood from the table and made his way to his office; he would have Julie fill it out. It was not unreasonable.

He scratched out a quick, to-the-point note and tied it to the leg of his owl, sending it on its way.

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><p>Hermione lay face down on her bed, scowling into her pillow, with her mp3 player plugged into her ears staring out the window into the night. She was beginning to feel the effects of hunger, but she was unwilling to go down and see if her father was still awake; she was still quite embarrassed by what had transpired over dinner.<p>

It took her several minutes to realize that the random bird she had settled to watching was heading directly towards her house; and bore a striking resemblance to the owl of one of her best friends. As it continued to get closer and closer, she realized it was Hedwig, and she sat up to open her window wide enough for the snowy owl.

"Hedwig! Is that from Harry?" She asked, perfectly aware of the redundancy of the question, tugging out her head phones as the bird settled on her outstretched arm. There was a short note tied around one of her legs, which she held out to allow it to be removed.

Hermione stood gently from her bed and crossed over to Archie's cage, which was currently empty, and she opened the door to it, "Here, you can rest up a bit; Archie is out at the moment. But he won't mind I'm sure." Hedwig gave a grateful hoot and hopped into the cage, helping herself to both food and water.

Hermione unrolled the letter and laughed as she reached the end of it. Poor Harry was being subjected to his cousin's forced diet, and was pleading for food. "I'll have to check if I have anything, I may have to make an order." She said softly, speaking to Hedwig, as she began digging around in her partially unpacked trunk. It however, was, woefully empty of sweets and snacks. "Nothing." She grumbled, more for the benefit of the snowy owl than herself.

She had no idea how she was going to place an order for sweets, now that she thought about it; it was easy to do at school, as Honey Dukes was close by. But from her home, it was quite a bit harder to manage. She didn't live close to Diagon Alley or, to her knowledge, any wizarding shops, and she currently had no muggle money.

"I'll have to go get some, Hedwig, I'll give you a letter for Harry, and I'll get Archie to deliver the snacks." She narrated as she set about digging out a quill and a fresh piece of parchment.

_Harry,_

_I haven't anything to send at the moment, but I'm sure Mrs. Weasley will be sending you a feast, so I suppose you can wait a few days for my package. I think you should know I rather agree with yours and Ron's opinion of my father. I asked to play summer football and he flat out refused; I bet he'd have said yes if I asked to join a summer Quidditch league.  
>I was originally going to ask if you and Ron might come here for a visit (don't roll your eyes at me Harry, you wouldn't have to spend time with my father,) but now I can't. Apparently Draco's going to be over for a full month. And I don't really want my house to be a war zone. Besides, I'll be seeing you in August anyway.<em>

_Hermione._

She rolled up the letter once the ink was dry and turned to face the snowy owl once more. "Here we go, whenever you're ready to go, I've got the letter. I'll try and have the package sent to him by the end of the week, ok?" Hedwig blinked up at her, with her giant amber coloured eyes and hooted softly, and held out her leg so that Hermione could attach the letter.

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><p>End of chapter one!<p>

Okay; I know it's been a little while since Year Three was finished, and you'll have to bear with me posting a little slower than usual for the first little while; but I have a nice long summer sequence to start Year Four.

And, finally, the Dramione moment I've kept you waiting for. I had toyed with the idea of Draco being in the 'friend zone' for Year Four, but I crammed so much of my own ideas into the summer, that I felt I should be a good, nice author and give the people what they want instead. And before you ask; Hermione will still be attending the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum. You will just have to wait and see _why_ she is his most important person.

There is so much coming at you to open this story, that by the time they get on the Hogwarts express, you'll forget they still have to go through school.

Speaking of which: I'm only finished writing up until Hermione receives her invite for the Quidditch World Cup, and I originally told you all I wouldn't start posting til I had her at the school. But summer is already just under forty pages, so I think I'm in the green anyway. Oh, not to break any hard core Quidditch hearts, but my description of the game is likely to be very limited, just because I'm going to be including other aspects of the Fourth Book which were left out by the Movies.

Now, it's time to go to bed and reward my tired, achy brain with some sleep.


	2. Marks And Marking Your Territory

A girl named Hermione Granger: Year Four

Chapter Two: Marks and Marking Your Territory

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><p>When Hermione awoke the next morning, it was to a loud, repetitive knock at her door. This she knew, even in her groggy, sleepy state, could only mean that Julie had come for the day. "Come in." She called out, sitting up to stretch her stiff muscles as the door swung open to reveal not only Julie, but her father as well.<p>

"Good morning," Julie said cheerfully, dropping a bulging bag onto the end of Hermione's bed as she swept into the room. The bag supported itself a moment before spilling clothes over the top of her summer quilt. Hermione picked a shirt out of the small pile and gave her elder sister a confused look. There was no _way_ her father would let her out of the house in this. It was almost exactly the same as the tank top she had worn the day before. Her eyes flickered over to her father, and sure enough, he wasn't looking too pleased.

"Uh, Julie I don't think –" "Nonsense! It's summer, you need warm weather clothes!" Julie cut her off with a large smile, and she pushed Severus out of the door way and shut the door on him. She waited until she heard his footsteps going back downstairs, and turned to face Hermione with a softer smile.

"So, kiddo, I heard you wanted to join a summer sports league." She said casually as she sat down on the bean bag chair, pulling a folded paper out of her pocket. Hermione nodded slowly, "Yeah, that's right. Dad already refused to sign it though." She had no idea where Julie was going with this.

"Well, it just so happens, I've signed it." Julie tossed the folded square into Hermione's lap and laughed as the young brunette's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "But this says you live –" "Next door." Hermione wasn't sure what confused her more; the fact that her father had obviously given the form to Julie for her to sign or that Julie had decided to move to Spinner's End.

"So, you're living in Spinner's End, then?" She asked hesitantly, trying to figure out the passive look that had settled over Julie's features. "Yes. I won't be moving in for another week or so, but it was Severus' idea. He seemed to think you were unhappy having just him around." The tone of her voice implied that she was leaving out several small, but important, details.

Hermione shifted through the rest of the clothes and found shorts that were _shorter_ than the pair she had worn the day before. "There's no way he'll let me out of the house in these!" Her father would have a heart attack, she was sure, if he caught her going outside wearing short-shorts. Julie chuckled from where she was sitting, "Oh don't worry about him; we had a _long_ discussion last night. You're also allowed to date now, if you want."

Hermione bit her lip and fought down a blush as she recalled that she had already _tried_ dating, and it hadn't ended well. "N-no, I don't think I will. It sounds kind of – of – of lame." As she struggled to think up a decent lie, Julie's face dawned with understanding. "OH MY – You've already been on your first date!" She squealed, jumping to her feet in excitement. "NO!" Hermione jumped up and clamped her hands over Julie's mouth quickly, "No, I haven't! Shhhhh!" She did not want her dad to know she'd attempted to have a date with Draco. That was simply out of the question.

Julie pulled Hermione's hands away from her mouth and gave her a knowing look, "Okay, we won't do this here. Get dressed, we're going shopping. You need gear for football." She strolled out of the overly pink room, and left the fourteen year old severely regretting her wish to join the muggle sport.

She picked out a pair of dark blue shorts and a black wife beater, and dressed quickly, grabbing her purse. She didn't know if she would be able to convince Julie to go to Diagon Alley or not, but this could be her only chance for a while.

She made her way down stairs and picked out a pair of trainers from the coat closet, "Julie!" She called out, looking down the hall, not sure as to where her sister was waiting. "In the study! We're taking the floo today!" Julie's voice called out, and so Hermione stepped into the hall and made her way into her father's study, not slipping on her shoes until she stepped onto the smooth, hard wood flooring. She didn't want to get in trouble for tracking dirt.

Her father was facing the window when she entered the room, and when he turned around and saw her outfit he did exactly what she thought he would. His face went purple and his left eye began to twitch violently. He looked like he was about to spontaneously combust.

"We're going to Diagon Alley first, so you can refill your purse, and get some muggle money. I'm afraid I haven't got much of anything to spare since I had to rent the whole house next door, on such short notice." Hermione finally understood why Julie had given her these clothes to wear; revenge on her father. Obviously he had been the deciding factor in her renting the house next door, that much had been established before, but it appeared that he had set it up without waiting for her to decide herself.

"Okay," Hermione brought her hand up to rub at the back of her neck, "Then we'll be going off into muggle London for your other things." By now, Severus' hands were shaking almost imperceptibly despite being folded across his chest. Hermione felt bad for her father, although he had brought the whole thing upon himself, and she resolved to buy some clothes he would approve of.

As Julie was pulling the jar of floo powder down from its place on the mantle, Hermione felt a rush of pain in her left arm and doubled over at the same time her father grunted in pain.

She fell to her knees, gasping for breath, holding her arm so tightly she was sure it was going to bruise. Her father and Julie were at her side within moments, trying to pry her hand off her arm. What she saw when they finally managed, almost made her sick. Surrounded by bruises the size of her fingers, the faint outline of the mark was showing. "What –" Severus placed a finger over her lips and drew out his wand, though the bruises stubbornly remained where they were.

"It's resisting." He said calmly, though he looked anything but. Without a word, bandages shot out of the tip of his wand and fastened themselves tightly over most of her forearm. "I'm afraid that will have to do for now. I'll contact Dumbledore while you are out, and see if perhaps he knows anything helpful." It was a bad enough sign that _his_ mark was hurting; but for it to be affecting Hermione, who didn't even have an actual mark, well, that was ominous.

Julie helped her to her feet and led her to the fireplace, "Don't let the bandages come off until you've returned here." This time, his voice betrayed the worry he was trying to hide. "Yes father," Hermione whispered as Julie led her through the floo to Diagon Alley.

* * *

><p>Hermione was stuck in her own thoughts as she ambled down Diagon Alley, with Julie holding her wrist tightly, "What a way to start the day." Julie said with a groan, her eyes flickering down to stare at the bandages. She had, since Christmas, hoped that the mark would fade from Hermione's life; because, for the mark to be there, the source magic had to growing in power.<p>

The glare of the sun that reflected off the gleaming doors to Gringotts awoke Hermione from her thoughts, "How much should I get?" She asked, falling into step beside her sister, so Julie finally dropped her wrist. "I don't know, get a hundred pounds, I know where there are some good sales in muggle London. And, however much Galleons you want. Just try not to dally."

Hermione stepped onto the marble floors and took a deep breath before stepping up to a free teller's booth, where a goblin was counting out a stack of gold and rubies. "Hermione Granger, here to make a withdrawal and exchange galleons for pounds." She tried very hard to keep her voice even and flat as the goblin sneered down at her. "Your key?" He wheezed, holding out his hand with his long fingers extended firmly.

She reached into her purse and pulled out the small silver key, "Here it is," she said as she placed it in his hand. "And how many pounds will you be needing?" "One hundred." She had no idea what the current exchange rate was for pounds, though she doubted it was very high. "It's six sickles to a pound, currently." The goblin informed her. "Six _hundred_ sickles?" She asked incredulously, feeling her eyes go wide at the thought.

She knew she had plenty of piles of gold and silver and bronze, but she had never thought to actually count it as of yet. The goblin became amused by her surprise and, in a condescending drawl, snickered, "Do not fret, Miss _Granger_. Your vault has more than an ample amount for such a transaction. Barely the tip of the mountain, I dare say."

She laughed nervously, "Yes, I suppose so. Could I perhaps get a tally of the contents, if it wouldn't take too long?" She knew she ought to stay on top of her banking information; it was not wise to spend like a fool when you did not know your limits. She was a little ashamed she had not thought of it before now.

"Not at all, Miss. I'll have Griphook lead you down, and have the tally and the pounds ready upon your return. Do not worry yourself with removing the amount to be exchanged; such large dealings are done at the desk." He snapped his long fingers, and her guide appeared at her side, with a sneer that clearly stated he'd rather be doing just about anything else.

"Follow me, Miss." Griphook said, leading her down the familiar path to the vaults. The dark cavern beneath the gleaming marble bank seemed foreboding, as she seated herself in the cart, and the goblin set it in motion.

The ride was silent, but for the squealing of the wheels on the track, and the rushing air. By the time they had stopped in front of her vault, Hermione was dizzy and had to lean on the wall as Griphook opened the door.

The gleaming piles of money seemed to tower over her, as she stepped inside, and the walls were lined with shelves full of intricate baubles, and books which looked as though they might fall apart on contact. Truthfully, her purse was still quite full of gold, silver and bronze; she had originally thought she would need to withdraw the money to be exchanged. However, she carefully swept another twenty of each coin into her purse and stepped up to a shelf to examine a particularly old book.

"Griphook, am I allowed to remove the books?" She figured it would be safer to ask before touching, especially knowing what her mother was; the odds that the books were cursed was quite high. "It is your vault Miss; you may do as you please." He replied from his place at the door.

She reached out and gently touched the spine of the book before her, and it leapt into her hand with a lurch. It was so heavy, at first, that she nearly dropped it in surprise, but she managed to steady its weight with her other hand, and open the cover.

Dust flew into the air as the hard cover fell roughly to the side, and she gasped when she saw the contents; it was addressed to her. She snapped the cover shut and placed it in her bag, "I'll be taking this book with me as well." She called out as she ventured further in, to examine what appeared to be an old photo album.

Encouraged by the response of the previous book, she reached out to pluck the album off the shelf, only to retract her hand as a shock of magic course through her fingers. "Okay, guess I just got lucky with the first one." She muttered to herself, examining her fingers, to see if any marks had been left. "Is Miss done?" Griphook's voice startled her, and she jumped as she realized that she had been in the vault longer than she had anticipated. "Yes, yes I'm done. Let's return to the lobby, please."

* * *

><p>After three hours of shopping, they finally stopped for lunch at a small muggle cafe, "Alright, now you have to tell me everything." Hermione groaned and sunk into her chair as Julie fixed her bright green eyes on her. "I don't know what you're talking about." The fourteen year old said, attempting to duck out of the conversation; she didn't particularly want anyone else to know about the disastrous almost-first-date. It was bad enough that Draco had told Pansy.<p>

Julie crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at her younger sister, "Hermione, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. It's your choice."

The young Gryffindor weighed her options for a moment. She could cave now, and tell Julie about it, in a crowded muggle cafe where her father would _not_ overhear; or she could cave in sometime next week, within hearing ranger of her father. It went without saying that her father was the last person she wanted to have know about any of it. "Fine."

She leaned across the table, so she could lower her voice, "Just before Christmas, I was supposed to meet Draco for butterbeer in Hogsmeade, but Harry and Ron intervened and screwed up the whole thing, and Draco and I have decided to just be friends...though he did try to..." her face flushed bright red as she recalled the way the blonde boy had had her pressed to the wall of her father's office, and how he had _almost_ kissed her.

Julie squealed and reached across the small round table, pinching Hermione's cheek with a grin, "I _knew_ it! You and Draco! Oh Narcissa is going to love this!" All the colour drained from the fourteen year olds face at the mention of Narcissa. "No! You can't tell her! Because then Draco will know I told you, and it'll end up getting back to dad, and he'll be apoplectic!" Julie laughed at her panicked display, and eventually, allowed herself to be promised into secrecy.

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><p>That night Hermione lay on her bed, staring at her ceiling with apprehension. Her day of shopping with Julie had been long, although they had certainly accomplished their goals. Her dresser was full of clothes that fit, and tucked under her bed was a box containing her new cleats and shin guards for football, as well as a ball of her own, so she could practice at home, and school if she felt so inclined.<p>

Lying on her nightstand was a small plastic box, containing contact lenses, which she had insisted upon. The thought of giving the students of Hogwarts more fodder for teasing her, had been a near unbearable thought.

Her apprehension, however, stemmed from what was occurring at this very moment. She could hear through the walls, the discussion between Julie and her father, which had ended very suggestively a few moments prior. It was well past the designated curfew her father had set, and she was growing more restless by the minute.

Her eyes flickered over to her broom, her rarely used comet two-sixty, and she climbed off her bed. It really was a shame to have such a fine broom, and never fly it. She couldn't fly it here of course, but maybe, she could get together with a friend, and fly with them. Though she didn't know who she could ask; Harry lived with muggles, and she and Ron were still very tentative as friends. Hell, she got along better with Ginny. She gasped as the idea came to her rather suddenly, _Ginny_. The young red haired girl loved to fly.

She quickly snatched up some parchment and a quill, and was selecting a bottle of ink when she heard the sound of her father's bedroom door closing. Although all sound died with the soft click of the door, she shuddered and picked a random bottle of ink before opening her window and grabbing her broom. As much as it didn't bother her, for them to be together (they both deserved to be happy, after all,) she didn't much like being awake to ponder their activities.

She seated herself on her broom and glided out the window, she obviously couldn't go far, she would risk being seen by muggles, but her eyes fell upon the perfect place to land; the roof. She directed her broom up, and gently touched down on the peak of the roof. The view was amazing, and for a few moments she merely basked in the glow of the half moon, and the many stars twinkling down at her.

She made her way carefully along until she reached where a second peak went to the front of the house, creating a safe nook for her to sit on, and she settled down with her legs crossed, and her broom settled between her lower back and the shingles, twisting open the cap of her deep blue ink and setting it in between her legs. Next she flattened the parchment out over her left knee and adjusted the quill in her right hand, dipping the tip into the ink.

_Ginny,_

_I hope your summer has been alright so far. I was wondering if maybe we could go flying some this summer, if you know anywhere that we can. I overheard Ron saying to Harry that he practices flying with Fred and George during the summer. Of course, I'd rather not fly with those three, and I have the sneaking suspicion they tend to forget to invite you along. So I was thinking we could spend time together, without the boys hanging around like flies. Let me know if you have any free days, and I'll be free to hang out between football practices and games. You could even come here, if you promise to keep it secret, and I could teach you football and we could get ice cream! I have floo, too. It would be so nice to spend time with a girl close to my age._

_Hermione_

She read over her letter, hoping that it didn't sound rude, or offensive to the younger girl. It was nothing but truth, her siblings dismissed her a lot at school, and it wasn't a far stretch of the imagination to picture it being the case at home too. This would be good for both of them, then, as she would get to have a girl friend, and she could treat Ginny like a little sister ought to be treated.

She carefully re-capped the ink and twirled the quill in her hand looking up hopefully at the stars. She had never been close to other girls, even as a child. Her days in primary school had been long and lonely; most kids had found her too weird to hang around. Even Hogwarts was shaping up rather poorly. She did have friends, of course, Harry, Ron, Draco, Pansy and Ginny, but most of her days there had been spent alone. The boys used her for a scapegoat, and the girls like a last resort. It would be nice to firm up some bonds of friendship now, before things could get crazy and complicated at school. Summer was a slower pace, there was little to no stress, and it heralded more opportunities for conversations about fun things.

She didn't know how long she sat there, watching the stars, and the street, but she eventually began to feel drowsy, and carefully arranged herself on her broom once again, before returning to her room. She was surprised to find her father in her door way, looking a little worried. "Where were you?" He asked, eyeing the broom in her hand.

"I was on the roof, writing a letter." She answered, holding up the rolled letter, ink jar and quill with the hand not clutching her broom. Her father's face relaxed and his shoulders slouched, "You shouldn't go off on your own like that, I was –" "I didn't leave the house, technically, dad." She cut him off, and he rolled his eyes. "I suppose you didn't, really, _except while on your broom_." His tone changed, and she sighed. "Okay, I didn't leave the yard, then."

He didn't respond, and that was when she realized he was only wearing sleep pants, and she could hear Julie snoring down the hall. "Did you need something?" She asked hesitantly. It was odd for her father to seek her out late at night, and a little weird for him to wait for Julie to fall asleep first.

"I just wanted to talk, come down to the kitchen and I will make some tea." He left without waiting for her to respond, and she placed her broom and letter on her bed, placing the quill and ink on her bedside table, before following him downstairs.

She stepped into the kitchen, finding it dimly lit by candles, and her father leaning against the counter as the kettle was being heated on the stove. "What did you want to talk about?" She wasn't sure why she whispered, but it felt like it would be wrong to speak any louder in the soft lighting and informal setting. "Take a seat, we'll talk once the tea is done," He was stalling, she knew, but she didn't push. Instead, she took her usual seat quietly, and watched as her father plucked the kettle off the stove just before it could whistle, and she watched him pour the steaming water into two cups, as little round tea bags floated up, only to be pushed back down by tea spoons.

He sauntered over to the table, and set a cup in front of her, seating himself across from her. The candles that were on the counters flew over and hovered above the table with a flick of his wand. "Now we can talk, I'd like to start with a question." His eyes locked onto hers, and she wondered if she was in trouble again. "How is your arm?"

Hermione jumped, and looked down at her left arm, "I don't know," the mark and bruises had vanished earlier, leaving them all stumped, "it's fine I guess. It doesn't hurt anymore at least." "Good, good. Julie will be happy to hear that when she wakes up." The air became tense between them, and she took a sip of her tea, pretending to be interested in it, so she could break eye contact.

"She and I have been talking, recently," his voice grew thick, as he struggled to find the right words, "about when we should do this," he made a motion with his hand between them, so she knew that this talk was planned, "and I convinced her to let me handle it."

Hermione was now _thoroughly_ confused. "What do you –" "You know we've been seeing each other," the pieces fell together quickly, and Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her chair, this was starting to sound like the talk she had had with Jane and David just before their youngest son was born. "Things often happen," she gripped her tea cup gently, "and it happens that Julie, is expecting."

Her logical brain shut down, and she looked up at her father with wide eyes, "Expecting what?" She asked weakly, earning a pointed look from her father, "expecting a baby." She broke eye contact again and looked down at her cup, "Oh." She really didn't know _how_ to feel. She liked how her family was right now, with her father and Julie devoting time to her, and seeing Jane and David once or twice a year. If a baby was added into the mix, what would change? Julie's affections would switch to the baby, and her father…he might do the same. It would be his chance to be a proper father, and she'd just be the left over child, his but at the same time not.

"That's…interesting news." She said hesitantly, chancing a look at her father's face. He seemed a little lost, and she didn't know what to think. "Hermione; this is why I'm having Julie move next door. And it's what we've been fighting over." He reached across the table and placed his large, warm hand over hers, "Why not have her live here?" '_And send me away?_' she added in her mind, feeling pessimism swarm through her. "This house is decidedly not a good place for her to stay permanently. All the potions ingredients I have would be dangerous for the both of them."

This wasn't as reassuring as she had hoped. It felt like the implication was that the only other room in the house was hers, and she was in the way of him and Julie forming a real new family. "The baby can just have my room and I'll go back –" "Hermione," Her father tightened his grip over her hand, and his tone made her shiver, "that isn't what I meant, and you know it."

Severus had not thought, when he had offered to be the one to inform his daughter, that she would be so resistant to the idea. He could admit that this was certainly not something he had expected to have happen, but in his mind it didn't change anything. Hermione was still his daughter, and she would come first, no matter who, or what, came around.

Hermione's face went red and she stood up, though Severus refused to let her hand go, "We're already a family, one that is more messed up than most, but a family none the less." He stood as well, keeping her hand in his, and slowly walked around the edge of the small dinner table. "I don't think we're that messed up," Hermione whispered, watching him as he got closer, "I like what we have, and I don't want it to change." She felt her lower lip tremble as he stopped in front of her and dropped her hand to place both of his on her shoulders.

"It's always going to change." He said firmly, "That can't be stopped. But this might be a change for the better." She stiffened, "Might? You don't sound sure." "I can't say I'm particularly attached to the idea. I never wanted to be a –" he trailed off, and she stepped back, remembering when she had first met her father. He had told her he had not been disappointed upon finding her, and it had never quite occurred to her just why that was. He hadn't wanted to be father, she could see it clearly on his face now, as he watched her, and thus he hadn't been disappointed because he hadn't even bothered to imagine who his first child was.

She swallowed thickly and looked down at her dirty feet, "You never wanted to have a family." She felt a surprising bitterness in her chest, although she felt she had no place to be bitter. She was the one who had barged into his life, asking and begging for more affection, more connection to each other. He had wanted to leave her with Jane and David, with her brothers and sisters. It probably hadn't even been his idea to make their relation known to her. Perhaps it had been Dumbledore who had talked him into it.

"Hermione," Severus could see she was hurt by his words, and he simply refused to let her pull away from him now, "maybe I had never planned on it," he stepped closer again, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her to his chest, so her head was resting just below his shoulders, "but I like how things are now, too."

Her arms wrapped firmly around his middle, seeking comfort. She wanted to wake up and find this to be a dream. "You'd best go get some rest; you've had a busy day."

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><p>End Chapter Two!<p>

As I'm segmenting what I've already written, I'm beginning to feel like I'm writing a soap opera.

Anyway; thank you all for the reviews and story alerts; my phone was full of email notifications when I woke up this morning.

Ok, I'd like to explain the Ginny-bit here. I realized I've been sort of down playing Ginny up until now; only tossing her in when I remember, and so I decided to bring out some more of her during the summer; because she and Hermione share a tent during the world cup (potentially with Julie...)

Unfortunately the next chapter is the only solo time I have written so far; and it's dedicated to explaining Hermione's family situation to her. Also, it explains a little more in depth about why Severus gave in so easy on the ungrounding.

AN 2.0 - Ok, so it's been about a week, so here I am posting chapter two! And I have some odd, but interesting news for you all. I've discovered my next venture after I finish the A girl named Hermione Granger series; and it is Legend of Zelda, Twilight princess. I've already started it, but any one who's played it knows how long of a game it is; so if I am working on it and the A.G.N.H.G. series at the same time; I should be far enough into the L.O.Z.T.P. fanfic to begin posting when A.G.N.H.G. is done. As is, I'm ten pages and eleven thousand words in and have only gotten as far as Link fetching his wodden sword from his house. Believe me, it will be so detailed you won't need to play the game to figure it out. Although, as per usual, I'm adding my own twists...and yes, Link speaks in it. But maybe after some temples, he won't speak as much. Maybe. We'll see.


	3. An Aly Who Knows All

A girl named Hermione Granger: Year Four

Chapter Three: An Aly Who Knows All

Disclaimer: I don't own it; but see bottom for AN if you have questions pertaining to Julie's age!

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><p>Hermione picked at her breakfast, uninterested in the food, she had sent her letter to Ginny and already received her answer; the younger girl would be coming over in an hour, although it meant she was going to have to let Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in on their secret as well. Her father had been a little hesitant, but his guilt at upsetting her the night before had been enough to make him allow this.<p>

Her eyes flickered up to the wall, and she sighed, there was no way she could eat now, she was too nervous about how things would go later. She stood from her seat and cleared her plate before heading up to her room. She shut the door quietly and got down on her hands and knees, reaching under her bed for the book she had taken from her vault. She opened it and pulled out the sheet of paper that the Goblin at the desk had given her on her way out of Gringotts; she had originally thought he'd made some sort of mistake, when she'd seen the nearly endless number.

Where her mother had gotten all this money from, she would never know. She knew Kathrine came from a pureblood line, and she guessed the money came from the Dolohov side; because Charity Burbage didn't seem to be that well off. She figured it was likely to be explained in the book addressed to her, though she was hesitant to actually try reading it. She tucked it back under the bed and sighed, pulling out a small leather trunk instead.

She opened the lid and stared at the money inside. She had gone back to Gringotts on her way home with Julie and gotten more money changed, bought the small trunk, and hid the stash under her bed. She knew that if Pettigrew had indeed found Voldemort and passed on his valuable information, her life here could be living on borrowed time. It was best to keep an emergency kit packed. She withdrew around fifty pounds and stuffed them into her pockets, before closing the trunk and sliding it back into its hiding place next to the book.

She spent the next several minutes composing a letter to Harry, telling him about her upcoming day with Ginny, asking if his treat supplies were still fine, and promising to send hers that night, after she went to the super market. She had plenty of wizard treats and sweets, but she wanted to get him some sugar free ones, as a bit of a joke. He would probably find it funny, seeing as she had been raised in a house where both adults were dentists.

She was just re-reading her parchment for errors when her father called out to her from the stairs. "It's time to go!" She took a deep, calming breath, and left her room, closing the door securely behind her. When she reached the landing, she was greeted by both her father and Julie. "Thought I'd tag along," Julie said, laughing at the surprise on Hermione's face, "Seeing as Molly and Arthur like me."

Hermione decided not to comment as she followed them into her father's study, and he plucked the jar off the mantle, holding it down to her level, "Ladies first," He sounded so serious that she was still laughing as she arrived at the Burrow, falling to the floor. Two warm hands gripped her wrists and pulled her to her feet, dusting away the soot from her clothes.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, it's good to see you. My dad and Julie are right behind me." She smiled at the stout middle aged witch dusting her off, and waved awkwardly at her husband, as he leant against the wall holding the prophet. Molly stopped fussing over her and stepped back, "It's good to see you too dear. I am surprised your father knows how to use the Floo though," this was the foreshadowing of the upcoming awkwardness that Hermione was afraid of. "Actually, before he gets here, it's not David Granger." She figured it would be much nicer to give them forewarning.

Arthur tucked his paper under his arm and stepped forward to place his hand on his wife's shoulder, "Remember Molly, we spoke about this earlier," He offered Hermione a small smile, "I spoke with him early this morning, never got around to telling Molly though. Why don't you go find Ginny? I think she's up in her room, up the stairs on the first floor, her names on the door."

The young brunette was thankful that at least one person knew what to expect, and graciously excused herself from the room and made her way towards the stairs. She was only a few feet up before she heard the sound of her father and Julie arriving, and the resulting exclamation of Molly ("_Oh my word!_")

She had barely reached the landing when Ginny opened her bedroom door, "Oh good, you're here! Come in and tell me the secret before Ron sticks his nose in!" The young red head pulled Hermione in without waiting for a response and the elder Gryffindor was taken aback by the sheer amount of green inside the room. "Wow." Ginny directed her over to a pile of cushions on the floor, "Sorry, Fred and George swiped my chair and stool last night. Sit and tell me!"

"Right," Hermione made herself comfortable, as Ginny locked her big, bright brown eyes on her, "So, I'm not sure how to start, but I'll say first that I'm not actually a muggle born witch." Ginny gasped and scooted in closer, "So you have wizard parents?" "Yes, although you're never going to believe who my dad is." The intense curiosity on Ginny's face was making Hermione feel giddy, and she was actually excited to say her secret out loud to someone who didn't know; "It's Snape."

Ginny shrieked and fell face first onto her floor, having leaned too far forward, "SNAPE! As in _Professor _Snape!" As if to answer her disbelief, the door to Ginny's room swung open to reveal all four adults, obviously drawn by the shriek. Ginny's eyes went wide as saucers as she spotted the potions master, dressed in his preferred casual summer clothes, a pair of dress pants and a collared shirt, "N-no way!" She turned her gaze back on Hermione, gaping at the blushing brunette, "How come you never said anything? All those jerks would have left you alone if they knew he was your dad!"

Hermione coughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of her neck with her hand, "It's a secret, and no one was supposed to know. It took Harry and Ron three years to figure out, and it likely would have taken longer if they hadn't gotten that clue at the beginning of the month…" She tried to direct her father's attention away from what Ginny had said, not wanting to explain why she had allowed herself to be bullied.

A quick glance in her father's direction, however, told her she was going to be answering it later. The room was silent a moment, until Julie suggested that they have a cup of tea, and the adults were gone down into the kitchen before either young girl could blink.

"So," Ginny said slowly, looking from the now vacant doorway to Hermione, "I can come visit you at _his_ house?" Hermione nodded, "That's where I live," She was cut off from saying anything else as Molly's voice called out and told them to come to the kitchen for tea. "This is so surreal; your _dad_ is our _teacher_. You were right; I didn't see it coming at all." The two girls made their way down the single flight of stairs and into the kitchen, where Arthur had resumed reading his paper, and Molly was fawning over Julie, while Severus sipped at his tea, discussing an article in the paper with Arthur quietly.

The two young girls took seats at the end of the table, where cups had been placed for them, and drank silently until a clock on the wall chimed twelve. "Oh dear!" Molly shot out of her chair, "I really should start lunch; will you be staying?" Severus sent an apprehensive look towards Julie, hoping for an escape route, (he'd rather have a nice quiet lunch at home,) and the green eyed woman sighed. "I'm afraid we really should go, I have to meet with the realtor in a half hour."

And so, with a few quick farewells, Hermione and Ginny were the first into the fireplace, followed soon after by Severus and Julie. Ginny looked around, as Hermione showed her the house, with wide eyes. There was a certain old feeling about the place, but it was kept quite neat and it looked as though it had been furnished by Severus himself. There were all the furnishings you would expect in a house, but it gave off the overall feeling of strictness.

When Hermione showed Ginny into her room, the younger girl let out a great "HA!" of surprise, taken aback by the amount of pink. "Wow, you really like pink that much?" Ginny asked, looking over the walls, and to the bed spread, and the brunette groaned, "I prefer green, actually. Julie and Narcissa decorated –" "Mrs. _Malfoy_?" The fourteen year old laughed nervously, "I forgot to mention Draco and I are fairly close, didn't I?" Ginny whistled lowly, and threw herself down on Hermione's bed, "Hermione Granger; master of the double life." She joked, gesturing to the room with her hand.

"Let's go into town, I'm tired of being cooped up. We'll bring the football and go to the park." Hermione pulled the black and white checkered ball out from under her bed and twirled it on her finger, tilting her head towards the door. "What's football?" Hermione bit her lip and debated how to explain the sport. It wasn't close enough to Quidditch for a comparison, and as far as she knew, the wizarding world only had one sport. "Well, it's a muggle sport, with only one ball – this one – and two nets."

Ginny followed her down the stairs, as the brunette explained, and once they reached the front door, caught the ball as Hermione passed it to her. "Hang on, I'll let dad know where we're going, so he doesn't panic later." She slipped down the hall and into the kitchen where her father and Julie were splitting a plate of sandwiches, "We're going to go to the park, and get some lunch. What time is dinner?"

Severus let his eyes flicker up to the clock on the wall, "Six." Hermione nodded and was gone before he could blink. "You think it's ok to let them loose in Spinner's End?" Julie asked, after watching the way his eyes trailed after his daughter. Things had definitely changed, between the two. She could remember a time when he had insisted no one she was connected to could come to the small muggle village; and she'd thought for sure that the rule would have been reinforced this year. However, here he was, letting Hermione run loose. Severus just shrugged, "No. Dumbledore and I had a conversation, at the end of last year, and we came to an agreement." He placed his half eaten ham sandwich on the table and ran his hands through his hair, "This," he gestured to the house with his hands, "is a dream living on borrowed time now. The past three years have been hard on Hermione, as you're well aware. Adjusting to the fact she was adopted, settling in to a prejudiced culture of pure supremacy, and she's tried very hard to connect with me."

His stomach sank, as he thought of his strained relationship with his daughter, "Not to say it's been easy on myself. But now, with Pettigrew gone, and likely at the dark lord's side, the secret is useless. There's going to come a day when she won't be able to stay here safely, and neither will you. You already know this, and I believe Hermione realizes it on some level."

As Julie let his words sink in, she knew he was right. It wouldn't likely be long until this came crashing down. It made sense, she guessed, that Severus would allow his daughter so much freedom this summer, before the responsibilities and fears coming their way could settle in. "You wanted her to play summer sports, didn't you?" She asked coyly, giving him a falsely accusing look, "To get her in shape for whatever is ahead."

Severus picked his sandwich up and smirked slightly, "Perhaps." In fact, it had not been his original goal. He'd been planning on giving her an exercise routine while she was grounded, but this had just sort of fallen into place on its own.

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><p>Hermione sighed as she basked in the sun, "I love summer. It's so warm all the time." Ginny nodded in agreement beside her, as they walked down the scorching pavement, "So, football? Tell me more." "Right, sorry. So, it's played on the ground, of course. And the object is to kick the ball into the opposing team's net."<p>

As they walked, they passed a particularly well-cared for house, a few streets away from Snape's, with a group of rowdy young teenagers lounging in the front lawn, playing with hoses and water balloons. "Are you friends with any of the muggles?" Ginny asked, watching with interest as two boys sprayed down a group of girls with the hoses in their hands.

Hermione glanced in the direction of the commotion and snorted, "As if; they are so stuck up. Especially that blonde girl there; think Daphne Greengrass. They all think I'm some poor orphan." She remembered, with a vicious smirk, the shouting match she had had with the blonde girl a few days prior. "There's elitist muggles?" "Of course there is. The rich ones think they're better than everyone else. But let me tell you, if she could see the pile of gold I have, she'd die of embarrassment."

By now they had turned the corner and could see the park off in the distance, sitting surprisingly empty. "Pile of gold? Professor Snape is _rich_?" Hermione chuckled, and threw her arm around Ginny's shoulder, "No, but my mum was. And seeing as she's dead, he put her vault in my name." Ginny squirmed out of her grip and gave her a hard look, "Speaking of your mom; who was she?" "Kathrine Dolohov."

The brunette waited for the explosion she was sure would follow. She had never told anyone who her mother was before, afraid to find out her reputation. Ginny did not disappoint. "WHAT!" The red head shrieked, stopping dead in her tracks, gaping at the older girl with great, bulging eyes, "D-Dolohov?" Ginny spluttered for a moment, and Hermione stopped a few steps ahead of her, looking back at her sheepishly, "Yeah. Before you ask, _that_ Dolohov. From what little I do know about her, we can all be thankful she's dead."

She was beginning to wish she hadn't said anything now; she'd held no illusions of her mother being a saint, but it was painful to see such a reaction. Especially since Ginny had taken so well to Snape being her father. "So, was she a – you know – _follower_?" Ginny's face was pale as she asked, and Hermione debated lying. "Yes." She replied before she could stop herself; it felt wrong to lie to Ginny. "She was. Tried to make me one too, but she keeled over before she could."

Hermione plucked the ball out of Ginny's hands as they stepped into the park, "Let's scrimmage." She wasn't so sure continuing their conversation in the open was a good idea. "But I'd like to know how you wound up with all _her_ money then," the twelve year old persisted, "I'm not sure, all I can gather is that sometime between when my parents were married and I was adopted by the Grangers, my mum's parent's split. And since Charity Burbage is a teacher, I'm guessing all the money came from Dolohov. And I have a suspicion, mind you it's just speculation, that the vault won't let anyone else touch the gold inside. There's things I can't even touch." An image of the many books lining the shelves came to mind, and she shrugged, "It's not terribly important. It just means I can afford things for school without difficulty."

Ginny sighed, looking around the park, "You're so lucky." The fourteen-year-old groaned, and dropped the ball to the ground, "Not really Ginny. You know how things are, and it gets worse you know," She kicked the ball gently, and it rolled to a stop in front of Ginny as she stepped back to place some distance between them, "Every summer so far, without fail, I get attacked by dark wizards."

A chilly breeze swept over them, and they both shivered, "I was attacked in this park, when I was eleven." She could still remember how scared she'd been as Lucius Malfoy had towered over her, with his wand drawn, and the long black cloak covering his face. "And I don't know what's going to happen when Voldemort returns, but I know I won't be living here."

Ginny kicked the ball back to her, and she stopped it with the side of her foot, before kicking it back, as a cloud rolled over the sun and blocked the heat for a moment, "How can you know that?" Briefly, Hermione wished for the ignorance she'd had the summer before, when she had been twelve herself; before she had stolen her own youth. "I can't say here, but I'll tell you later. Come on, let's go get some lunch. This park creeps me out when it's empty."

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><p>End chapter three!<p>

I'm updating this at approximately 1:40 am due partly to the super long review I got tonight (thank you, by the way, this gives me a chance to explain Julie further) and partly, also, to twelve onces of wine plus beer and whiskey (don't judge; I am old enough to drink in whatever country I should like; though I hate to admit I write fanfiction at my age (about mid twenties; I'm telling you _exactly_ how old I am; for that is one thing a woman never reveals :P) but just know I'm not some alcoholic teenager.)

Okay; so Julie.

She is intended to be two years younger than Severus. GRANTED I did intend her to be younger in the first story; my bad for the confusion. I never intended for her to pop out as a witch; the plot just sort of led that way. In Year Four, she _is_ supposed to be 31 **(icarus, I applaud your conception of the ages. You are spot on. And I'm sorry for the confusion. It's sort of a curse that comes with writing on my part. I wish I'd explained that particular part better; however thank you for enjoying my series so far!)**

Alright, so onto the regular portion of my AN: This is the only solo-time Hermione and Ginny have, sadly. However, that may change a smidge when I get to writing the world cup. Don't be mad! I got swept away with my new Legend Of Zelda Twilight Princess Fanfiction, but I will finish this series. I am equally split between my love of both Link and Snape, so I won't forget one in favor of the other. That, and the fact that my mind contsantly spits out ideals of both universes when faced with problems, should be more than enough to keep me going on both. BUT my LoZ fanfic may not end up posted. I've come up with some ideas for it which I can actually use for a _real novel._ Without copywright infringement. And my priority is to become a real author. If I managed to create my own original series and had people write fanfiction about it, I could never ask more from life. Whether we admit it or not, we develop a fond sort of love for the fanfictions we read and write, and that, more than anything, is what brings the stories to life. Which is what any author wants. It's not about selling books, it's about sharing stories which make people happy. And, fans, if I do manage to get my own novel published, I'll let you all know. (It will undergo much more editing than any fanfiction of mine, as well.) And listen to me ramble...that's the wine...in part. We all know I ramble in my author's notes. I can't help it. I doubt whether many people read them or not, but it's good for author's to vent.

So, yes...thank you to my readers, for keeping me going, and please continue to follow!


	4. The Girl Nobody Thought Of

A girl named Hermione Granger: Year Four

Chapter Four:The Girl Nobody Thought Of

Disclaimer: Not mine, but please see bottom for super long, appologetic authors note begging forgiveness of being lazy.

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><p>Hermione looked around, at the bare walls, and stacks of boxes, taking in what would probably be her last view of Julie's flat. It seemed like ages ago that she had lain sprawled over the couch, calling Harry at his aunt and uncle's, hovered in the kitchen, watching Julie brew potions; and having the door open to reveal the cloaked man.<p>

A sudden knock made the young girl jump, and turn her wide eyes to the door with shock, until Julie's voice called out from the depths of the flat, "Hey, can you get that? I think its mum and dad." The thought of Jane and David prompted the bushy haired young girl to nearly run to the door, and yank it open. She was engulfed in the warm embrace of Jane Granger as soon as her hand left the handle, "Oh, Hermione! You've grown so_ much_!"

Hermione returned the hug with fervour, and for a moment, wondered how it could have possibly been so long since she had seen her adoptive parents. Her eyes landed on David, before flickering over Danny and Sarah, and she was almost shocked to find she felt no pang of guilt for not having seen them in so long. "It's been a long year," the young brunette said grimly, feeling; not for the first time, like she had been through far more than a year. And, in a way, she had.

Julie emerged from the depths of the flat then, drawing the attention of Jane and David onto herself, and leaving Hermione standing awkwardly beside her former brother and sister while the adults spoke softly in the kitchen. After about five seconds of the awkward silence, Hermione bustled away from the door, and busied herself with cleaning the windows, as she had been doing before the arrival of her family.

It wasn't long before Jane and David came back into the living area, and they began to take the packed boxes down the lift, to be piled into the moving van by her father. She helped in silence, as David joked with Danny and Sarah, and poked fun at Julie, commenting on how fat she was sure to get as the baby grew. All the while, the fourteen year old tried to keep out of the way, feeling like an outsider.

She did a fairly good job, too, until she returned up the lift to grab the very last box and lock up for Julie. When she placed her hands on the box, she heard the sound of the moving van start up, and she hoisted the box up quickly; only to stumble back and fall down as she realized it was empty. She scrambled to her feet as she heard the unmistakable sound of the moving van drive off, and the _crack_ that meant her father had now disapparated.

She felt her eyes burn as she realized that they had left without her; something that had _never_ happened before. Jane and David always kept tabs on where their children were, and Hermione could never once remember them having forgotten anyone or anything. She sank back down to the floor, and tucked her knees into her chest. She gripped the keys in her left hand so tightly that she could feel the jagged edges digging into her palm, and she waited.

Darkness was falling before the landlord came and found her sitting there, the bitter old man took the keys from her and told her she had to leave; sending her out into the street with no sympathy, declaring that a girl her age should be able to find her own way home.

London was a daunting place at the best of times, but as she wandered the streets in the failing light of the day, Hermione found herself beginning to panic. She had been here for hours now, and no one had come looking, it was likely that they wouldn't notice she was gone until morning, if she was right in assuming both Julie and her father each thought she was with the other, _if_, she thought with dread, they were even thinking of her.

For another hour, she walked, trying to figure out where she was, and trying to figure out where to go. "_Great_." She groaned, finding an alley to duck into, and throwing herself down on an over turned trash can. "They probably don't even _care_." She moaned, gripping her hair and tugging painfully in frustration, as she watched the shadows of people passing by. She had attempted to ask a police officer for directions, only to be brushed off as a prankster because she had, in her panic, mentioned she was looking for the Leaky Cauldron.

She brought her purse into her lap and opened it up; her wand lay in the bottom with her wallet, innocently taunting her. She knew she could call the knight bus, and it would come take her home, where she could even go on to pretend she hadn't been forgotten. But part of her wanted them to notice her absence and worry. She snapped her purse shut and got back to her feet, "Let them worry. I can take care of myself." She said aloud, determined to prove to herself that she was capable of caring for herself.

She stepped confidently back onto the street, and felt a familiar chill sweep over her. The street was deserted, and the street lamps slowly began to flicker and blink out of existence. Her hand dove into her purse and immediately clamped around her wand, and she drew it out slowly, looking around herself for any sign of movement. Footsteps echoed suddenly behind her, and she spun around quickly, coming face to face with a werewolf.

She threw her wand up in front of her face, and kept her eyes locked onto the animalistic, amber eyes of the grey beast. "Oh no…" she gasped as she stumbled back into the open street, the lanky beast following her step for step. Her heart was doing a mini-marathon inside her chest, as she tried to recall the chapter on werewolves in her Defense Against the Dark Arts book. A dozen spells came to mind instantly, followed by the face of Lupin. She hesitated, wondering if the werewolf advancing on her was like him; misunderstood and without control.

There was a sudden loud bang, a cry of shock, and she was yanked off the street onto a bus, and then the werewolf was gone. She lowered her wand slowly, as someone spun her around, asking if she was alright. She blinked several times and took in her surroundings. She was on the knight bus. "I'm fine, thanks." She breathed in response to the rapid fire questions being shot at her, "L-leaky Cauldron, p-please." She dropped a fistful of gold into the hands of the man that had pulled her onto the bus and collapsed on the closest bed.

She lay there, ignoring the concerned looks being sent her way by other passengers, wondering what would have happened had the knight bus not shown up when it did. Would she have ended up being killed? Would she have had to attack the werewolf, and been expelled from school?

"Leaky Cauldron, Miss," The voice of the nineteen year old Stan Shunpike broke her out of her reverie, and she hurried off the bus. The street was quiet and eerie, and she all but ran into the dingy little pub, happy to find it full to the brim with patrons, including one very large, very familiar one in particular.

"Hagrid?" She carefully weaved her way towards the back corner table where the unmistakeable form of the Care for Magical Creatures professor was sitting, along with (and she could hardly believe her luck,) Dumbledore. "Professor Dumbledore!"

The shock on their faces when they realized it was her was priceless. "Blimey, Hermione, are yeh here _alone_?" Hagrid asked, looking around for any sign of her father. "Err…yes. We were moving Julie today and…" she trailed off, sitting at the only empty chair at their table with a sigh. "I…wandered off alone, and got stuck out here." She decided she did _not_ want to have to deal with anyone realizing she had been left behind by any fault of her father's or Julie's. It was bad enough that _she_ knew.

"Your parents must be out of their minds with worry, Miss Granger." Hermione shifted uncomfortably under the Headmaster's gaze, "Yes, I suppose so. I'd best go see if I can use the floo, then." She stood uncomfortably from the chair and made her way towards the bar counter; she had no intentions of using the floo tonight, however. She felt thoroughly drained, and all she wanted was to sleep.

She spoke to Tom, the toothless, balding bar keeper, and rented a room for the night, and ordered herself a butterbeer. She climbed the stairs with the warm slopping mug in her hands, and as soon as she was in her room, she downed the warming, soothing drink in one go. "What a day." She groaned, placing the empty mug on the bedside table as she slipped off her shoes and buried herself under the warm, heavy covers on the monster sized bed.

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><p>Severus Snape awoke in a state of panic, in the early hours of the morning. He climbed out of bed and made his way down the hall, throwing open the door to his daughter's room. When he saw her bed was empty, he rushed next door, and knocked on Julie's door until she opened it, looking nearly as irate as he was afraid. "Please tell me Hermione's here." He said quickly, only to see the colour drain from her face. "I thought she was with you." Julie whispered, forgetting that it was three in the morning, and she ought to have been sleeping.<p>

Severus swore and spun on his heel, looking out over the deserted street, his eyes darted around until they fell on the reflection of the moon in a solitary left-over puddle from the over-watering of another neighbour. "I left her in London…on the full moon…" He croaked, suddenly feeling very dizzy. Julie came up behind him and gripped his shoulder tightly, "_We_," she corrected, not wanting him to take the blame entirely upon himself. _She_ had forgotten Hermione just as much as he had.

"I have to go look for her –" He tried to pull out of her grip, but she latched on with her other hand, "Severus, be reasonable. She's smart, she'll be fine."

"There's a werewolf population in London, do you even _realize_ what could happen –" He found himself facing the angry brown haired witch before he could finish his sentence, her hand print burning on his cheek. "I know that, I lived there. You and I both know that if she pulled her wand, the knight bus would have picked her up, and she's very likely in the Leaky Cauldron at this minute. If she were attacked, she'd already be in St. Mungo's and we'd already know about it." She hissed, storming back into her newly acquired house, slamming the door before he could retort.

He stood there, gaping slightly at the closed door for several minutes, wondering if he had actually just been slapped for _worrying_ about his daughter being alone in London.

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><p>Early morning light filtered into her rented room, through moth eaten brown lace curtains, and she lay there, staring at the canopy of the massive bed on which she lay. In the light of the new day, she was beginning to feel fear bubble up inside at how apoplectic her father was bound to be when she waltzed in through the grate in two hours, (she refused to go and be immediately grounded on an empty stomach, so she was going to eat first,) after making no move to contact him <em>or<em> Julie the night before.

Visions of bars on her window and a cat flap on her locked bedroom door; (tokens of the stories she had heard from Harry at the beginning of their second year,) swam before her black-coffee coloured eyes. She snuggled further into the massive bed, drawing the covers around her like a cocoon, "Wonder what it would cost to rent a room here all summer…" She whispered to herself, thinking of the future. She didn't want to be so grim, but she was afraid that one day, she would be forced to leave her father's, with nowhere else to go.

There was a rapid knock at the door of her room, and she turned her eyes to the heavy wooden door, "Go away, I'm still sleeping!" She called out, thinking it was housekeeping making the morning rounds. The knocking persisted, and a muffled voice called out, but she couldn't make out what it was saying. Regretfully, she climbed out of bed, keeping the blankets wrapped tightly around her, and edged towards the door. She pulled it open just enough to make out the form of her stumbling father.

She yanked the door open wide and gaped at the dishevelled form of her usually meticulous father. "Dad – what are you – are you _drunk_?" She watched in astonishment as he caught sight of her, and his face lit up like a Christmas tree, "'Mione!" He threw his arms around her, and began mumbling into her hair about how worried he'd been. She helped him into her room and led him over to the bed she had just vacated, "I think you need to lie down." She unravelled herself from the blanket and tossed it over her father's form as he leaned back on the bed.

He was out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillows and Hermione groaned softly to herself. Who knew what kind of damage had been done, if her father had come stumbling into the Leaky Cauldron this drunk. Unable to even think of how bad the situation could now be, she grabbed her shoes and found a piece of parchment and a quill on the dresser in the room, and scribbled out a message for her father.

_Dad;_

_Sleep off the firewhiskey. I'll be back to check on you at two. I'm going into Diagon alley._

She didn't bother signing it, as she placed it on the bedside table and left the room quietly. She tip toed down the stairs, and found the little pub _surprisingly_ full. She made her way to the bar and told Tom she had left her father in her room, and she would not be checking out until later that day, and made her way out the back door, wondering if all those people in the pub now knew, or not.

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><p>Severus Snape awoke around one o-clock, his head feeling as though he had fallen from a broom, into a stampede of Hippogriffs. He sat up on the spacious bed, and pressed the palm of his right hand over his eyes, cursing the day light filtering into the room. As soon as he got his head to stop spinning, he began looking around, realizing he was <em>not<em> in his own house. The smell of mead and stale smoke assaulted his senses, and he breathed a sigh of relief, "Leaky Cauldron." He grunted, spotting a piece of paper on the bedside table. He sighed once again as he read it, recognizing the handwriting, "Hermione's room."

His eyes landed on the tall clock in the corner of the room, next to a small bathroom. Deciding he had probably already shamed himself _enough_ in front of his daughter, he decided to clean himself up before the time she had written that she would return.

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><p>Hermione was exploring a stationary store, looking at new quills and inks, when she heard a clock chime from the depths of the shop. She left quickly, not having found anything to buy, and made her way back to the Leaky Cauldron, dreading whatever version of her father would be waiting for her.<p>

She was pleasantly surprised to find him awake, and clean, when she walked into the room. "I didn't think you'd be awake yet." She said flatly, taking a seat on the end of the bed, cautiously keeping her expression pooled into a look of boredom. She didn't yet know his mood, and she wasn't giving him any openings to attack.

"Things may have gotten a little…out of hand…when I awoke in a cold sweat this morning to discover my daughter _missing_ during a full moon." He was facing the window, as he spoke, though the curtains had been drawn so that no light was peeping in. She rolled her eyes from her place on the bed, and leaned back, folding her hands behind her head. "I think whatever display you must have made in a crowded pub, constitutes more than 'a little out of hand'."

She was hoping that he could remember whatever it was he'd done, so she could know the damage _now_. His condescending scoff was reassuring, as he turned to face the bed, "Don't be ridiculous, the pub was empty when I arrived." She shrugged non-committedly, from her place on the large bed, before sitting up again, "Perhaps we should go home. I'm sure housekeeping will want to clean the room." She left before he could reply, and had already gone through the floo by the time he reached the landing.

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><p>End Chapter Four!<p>

Apologies: I haven't the strangth to proof read this chapter...should be fine, because Word didn't alert me to any spelling or gramar errors (though that's not saying much as it once tried to tell me 'I have no intentions' ought to have been 'me have no intentions'. I still roll my eyes at that.)

Yeesh, it's been a while, sorry my fans. Take pride in the fact I've not forgotten though.

I admit, I've been a little...obsessed, I gues syou could say, reading every Legend of Zeda story I could get my hands on that was SheikXLink (Sheik being preferably male, as I just never settled well with Sheik and Zelda being one and the same...I'd imagine Link to be too mentally damaged to want much to do with women anyway...but that's off topic.)

However, I'm still writing this series! Eh, granted this chapter has been waiting to be posted, I've some great ideas to come. And possibly some legend of zelda one-shots...What can I say? I've been a busy bee.

Now, about this chapter; it's important, for the rest of the series. I'm not gonna give it all away down here, you should be able to pick up on what I mean in the chapter itself.

Also, I never exactly intended for drunk Severus Snape to wander off to find his daughter - that just kind of happened, and I can't think of anything to replace the scene, so it stays.

Sorry the chapter is so short, that'll change as we get further in. Eh, that's not as forgivness-begging as I had originally intended. I'm not in the mood for such rambles right now. I awoke today to a bleeding ulcer, and anyone who's ever had one knows what _that_ entails. It's rather grating on my nerves to have little stabbing pains and black blood. I feel like shadow link. Oh well. At any rate, I'm alive and kicking, and the story is being written, and decisions are being made about whether I want to make a link costume for an anime convention, or a sheik one. Also ideas are being panned out for a real novel I can call my own.

Hmm, would you look at that, maybe I feel a little better already, I'm rambling uselessly again.

Ah, and to a recent reviewer (though they're still on year three, and haven't seemed to gather much of where this is all going, when they get here they'll understand if they read this.) I think you must surely be mistaken. While in the Harry Potter series, Hermione marries Ron; in the A girl named Hermione Granger series, she does not. While I loved that piece when I first read Rowling's epilogue, I've become much less of a Ron Weasley fan as of late. I don't know why; quite possibly he's just not enough of a bad boy for me. It's nothing on him, he's just really not the kind of person I see Hermione loving. Perhaps the next chapter or two, from this one on, will point you in the direction I have Hermione headed down for love.

AN 2.0 - eh, nope. don't feel better after all. But I am posting, so it's not all bad. Now to pass out and sleep for preferably ten hours; to kill my headache, and not wake up with a mouthful of gross bleeding ulcer gunk. Farore just kill me now. (Yes, I did just ask a Hylian Goddess of life *and courage, according to the triforce* to kill me. I feel just _that_ crap-tastic.)


	5. Bridging The Chasm

A Girl Named Hermione Granger: Year Four

Chapter Five: Bridging The Chasm

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter related. Any one cheesed at me for the wait, I'll add a long apollogy at the end of the chapter!

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><p>Though July brought even warmer weather, more frequent visits to and from Ginny's, and a half dozen games of football; it also brought a chill that filled Number 14, Spinner's End like a void. Hermione couldn't place why she felt herself slowly drifting away into solitude more often than not, but she did. Her light hearted banter with her father had become significantly less frequent, and she found herself pulling away from visits with Julie as well.<p>

If she _had_ to try and pick a reason, she supposed it was at least _started_ by the night in London. But, of course, she felt that there was more to it than even that.

And, given her father's over-protective, nearly over-bearing nature, she wasn't surprised that it worried him. Mostly, his worry showed in small doses in his mannerisms; he would ask how she was feeling, or offer to take her to Diagon Alley, or some such fatherly gesture. He even went so far as to assist Mr. Weasley in securing enough tickets for the Quidditch World Cup.

The young teenager watched her father worry a groove into the flooring everyday, and watched him pull open his liquor cabinet every night. The only thing she refused to watch, was the fighting. And the dark, Slytherin part of her mind laughed at his desperate attempt to have her open up; he sent her to a shrink.

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><p>Severus supposed he really shouldn't have been surprised, when Julie called him. He did know his daughter rather well, and she wasn't one to be tricked into anything; he just had <em>not<em> expected the raving psychiatrist to attack him the moment he stepped into the muggle office building. He paid no mind to her ranting, however, after having had to deal with Burbage's ranting all of the prior year, and made her direct him to her office.

When he opened the door, he found his daughter reclined in a puce coloured chair, with her arms folded behind her head.

She didn't know how long she sat there, staring at the wall, before the door opened. She could tell, by the nearly inaudible steps that it was her father who entered. The Slytherin voice in her mind congratulated her sarcastically for being able to pick out the sound of her father's footsteps, but she squashed it, and looked at him out of the corner of her eyes.

"Hullo father," She greeted dully, feeling rather drained. Her earlier energy, used to torment the psychiatrist, had been wiped out of her while she had sat alone in thought. "How are you feeling?" His voice was stiff, and she shrugged. "I'm fine." The reply was automatic, and made him frown. "I heard you refused to speak to the healer." He was angry, she could tell, that she had resisted. "Why should I talk to her? All she wants is gossip to spread. She doesn't understand, and it's not like I can even tell her anything really, she's a _muggle_."

Severus gripped his knees tightly with his hands, watching his daughter stare empathetically at the wall, "Hermione, you have to stop this." He had watched and waited, patiently hoping she would snap out of it on her own. He had wanted to act well before this point, of course, but Julie had convinced him that all the young girl needed was time; however he was out of time. Draco would be coming in two days, and he didn't particularly want this to be a way for the two to bond.

Hermione shrugged off her father's words, and let her arms fall into her lap. "I don't know what you mean." She was lying, he knew, but it was apparent that nothing was going to be sorted out in this situation. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, Hermione." The teen snorted and turned to give her father a flat look, "Either you are spending too much time with Julie, or she is spending too much time with you." "Or you are hiding too many things." Her father shot back, and she rolled her eyes, feeling annoyance bubble up inside of her.

"Of course I want to keep things to myself, I'm a teenager now. So can we go home?" She felt a twinge of guilt as her father pursed his lips and nodded stiffly. She _wanted_ to be able to talk to him, she didn't like keeping things inside, but she didn't want him to remember to ask her about the bullies at school, and she wasn't sure he'd quite understand. She wanted to deal with people like that alone, she wanted to be stronger, and respected like Harry was; disregarding the fact that anything out of place at the school was generally blammed on her friend.

Severus pulled the door to the healer's office open, gesturing with his head that she was free to go home. He watched her stroll out into the lobby, and up to Julie, and wondered what had happened to his easy-to-handle daughter.

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><p>Julie sat on the floor basking in the glow of the fire in Severus' study, "I told you, she'll talk about whatever it is when she is ready." He grunted in reply from his seat behind his desk, swirling his glass of firewhiskey. "Why the rush to get her to open up anyway?" She twisted a lock of her straight brown hair around her fingers as she turned to look up at him. He didn't reply right away, but the sour look on his face made it very clear. "You've got to be kidding me." She stood up, and sauntered over to his desk, leaning onto the smooth surface so she was eye level with him, "This has something to do with Draco's visit, doesn't it?"<p>

He took a swig of his firewhiskey and broke eye contact, looking towards the fireplace, "Perhaps." He didn't want to admit his concerns for the closeness between the two. Though, as Julie laughed tauntingly at his evasive behaviour, he wondered if he ought to say something about his concerns.

"How bad could it really be? They're too young for all that, and to the best of your knowledge, there are no feelings on either side pointing to that." She straightened and walked away from the desk, stopping in front of the window. He followed her movements with his eyes and debated only a moment before joining her by the window, glass in hand. Julie scrunched her nose as she was assaulted by the scent of the whiskey, and let out a sigh. "You know, you drink a lot."

Severus looked between the glass in his hand and the woman beside him, she had never before complained about his drinking, though he did suppose that he drank more often than most. He had always justified it to himself by remembering he lived a stressful life; though he had not been a drinker before the end of the war. "I suppose." He drawled, raising the heavy crystal glass to take another sip.

Julie watched the motion with mild irritation; "I'm not sure it sets a good example," she pushed, tilting her head ever so slightly in the direction of Hermione's room on the floor above. "You don't want her to pick up on it, do you?" Severus snorted in amusement at the very thought; if Hermione could get _into_ his liquor cabinet, she deserved a drink. He was a former death eater and spy; his paranoia had him locking up anything he consumed in _highly_ warded cabinets. His liquor cabinet, for example, was nearly invisible, and heavily locked.

"If she somehow finds her way into the cabinet, she's earned the right to have a drink." He couldn't fight the urge to smirk as he said this, though when he caught the disapproving look on her face out of the corner of his eye, he placed his cup on the edge of his desk, "You could open it right in front of her and she wouldn't know where it is." He clarified, trying to appease the pregnant woman.

Julie would not be swayed however, "She already knows where it is, you do realize? She takes after you more than you seem to _care_ to notice –" "I care to notice _plenty_." He snapped, picking up his glass once more, before leaving his study. Julie followed him out into the living area, arms crossed firmly over her chest, "If you notice so much, why are you still keeping this farce of a '_secret'_, when the only idiots who don't know are the ones happier to believe she's muggle born?"

He froze in place at the bottom of the stairs, his hand gripping the banister fiercely, "The only reason there has _ever_ been for this _farce_, is Hermione's safety. There is great deal of pureblood death eaters who would love to get their hands on her. Her _mother_ was a favourite of the dark lord; and she exists only because of this fact." He didn't care to remember this, now that he had grown so fond of his daughter. He certainly wished he could make life simpler, and just give up the pretence, but even Dumbledore was against the idea.

Julie watched him climb the stairs, tears of anger burning behind her eyes; she blamed his drinking for having started the fight, and her hormones for having pushed it into dangerous waters. She grabbed her cloak from the hall closet and left, grateful for the moment to have her own room to retreat to. As she stepped into her sparsely furnished home, she placed a hand delicately over her slightly protruding stomach, and felt the fluttering movements of her baby.

She wondered what things were going to be like down the road, when the child was born. She knew Severus wouldn't give up his teaching post, and she would be alone for most of the school year, raising a child that would wonder if it even had a father. She made her way upstairs with a sigh and stepped into the room that had been designated for the baby, to find Hermione sitting cross-legged on the floor with her broom by her side. "Hey kiddo," Julie whispered, taking a seat beside her young sister, "what's up?"

The bushy haired fourteen-year-old shrugged, "I heard you guys fighting, again." Ever since Julie had moved into the house next door, (after her late night adventure in London,) Hermione had snuck over whenever she could hear raised voices; something which had been occurring more and more. She would always come into the baby's room, and try to imagine what it would be like when her brother or sister was finally born.

"Oh, sorry about that," Julie swiped at the tears threatening to spill from her green eyes, and Hermione caught the gesture out of the corner of her eyes, "I caused this one; didn't I?" Silence fell between them, and Hermione hung her head in guilt, "Well, at least you can take comfort, knowing it's not your fault you and him fight so much; it's mine."

The thirty-one year old jerked and spun around to face the younger girl, "Don't say that, 'mione, it's not your fault when we fight." The fourteen year old shook her head, "it's okay, Julie, I'm not daft. I'm just sorry I've always caused you so many problems. Sometimes I wish I was a muggle." She paused, but not long enough for Julie to come back at her with anything, "Then things would be simple, you know. No double life, no secrets. But I'll be seventeen soon, and then I can go live in whatever way I wish."

"Hermione, you're only fourteen –" "I should only be _thirteen_. I'm fifteen in September, there's no changing what I did last year and all I can do to make peace with it, is think of how I can leave behind the places I cause problems that much sooner." Her words hung between them in the silence for what felt like an hour, before either moved. "I think you should talk to Severus," Julie said softly, as she got to her feet once more, "that's all he wants. For you to confide in him like you used to." She took slow steps out of the room, pausing in the door way to say, "I think you should talk to him about Draco too. He's building up this horror story in his head."

Hermione shrugged from her place on the floor, "We'll see." "You've always been so grown up; maybe it's time to be a kid?" The young brunette watched her sister leave down the hall and collected her comet two sixty into her hands, before clamouring to her feet. Julie was right, and she needed to talk to her father the way she used to.

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><p>Breakfast was deathly quiet the next morning, the way it tended to be after her father and Julie fought. The only sound in the kitchen, aside from the scrapping of utensils on plates, was the steady ticking of the wall clock.<p>

Hermione mentally debated starting a conversation now, when she could escape outside if it went awry, but thought better of it. There was a dark cloud hovering around her father, making him feel ominous and unapproachable. She decided to settle for making small talk instead, asking when he was expecting Draco to be on his way over. "This afternoon. His father will be dropping him off. Where will you be?"

"Football." She was eternally grateful that she had an actual excuse to be out of the house today. She didn't feel like hiding while Lucius Malfoy was on the premise. She picked at the remaining food on her plate as her father fell silent once again. Suddenly, she threw down her utensils, and stood from her chair, "I was almost attacked by a werewolf in London." She felt a weight lift off her shoulders; she had refused, after returning home, to tell anyone what had happened. It had been the start of their drifting apart.

Severus nearly choked on his toast at her outburst, and as soon as he could speak, he was at a loss for words. "I got pulled onto the knight bus before it could attack." She watched his shoulders relax slightly, and let out a sigh of relief. She was glad she had finally told him. "It's killing me that I'll be fifteen in September, but I'm glad at the same time because it means I'll be old enough to be on my own sooner too. As soon as I'm seventeen I'll move out, and you and Julie can be together without fighting over me."

Her confessions hung in the air between them, as Severus slowly stood from his chair. For a few, horrifying moments, she thought he was going to leave the room without acknowledging what she had said. Her fears were pushed aside, however, as he stepped closer to her and placed his hands on her shoulders softly. "We're not fighting because of you." He said firmly, looking her straight in the eyes, "It's true you do come up, when we fight, but you're never the cause."

"That's what Julie says too." She admitted, "And she's right. Don't blame yourself, and don't worry about your age. By the end of your fourth year, everyone will be fifteen, and most will be fourteen before the start. This is why I took the time-turner." She offered him a weak smile, remembering their discussion in his office when she had been released from the hospital wing, also remembering she had one more teeny, tiny thing to talk to him about. Draco.

She opened her mouth to bring the topic around to where she needed it to be, when Julie walked into the house, announcing her presence. It was reassuring, the way her father smirked at the sound of her older sister's voice, and the fourteen-year-old took the chance to escape discussing her own pathetic love life with her father, "I should go get ready for football practice." She ducked around him and bolted for the stairs, pausing to give Julie a thumbs up, to signify her father's good mood.

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><p>Draco Malfoy awoke on July fifteenth, to find his mother bustling around his room, filling a duffle bag with clothes. He sat up in bed, watching in groggy confusion as his mother tucked an envelope into a side pocket, humming a Celestina Warbeck song he was thankful he couldn't name. "Mother?" He stepped out of bed as his mother turned to face him with a rather uncharacteristic smile, "Oh good, you're awake. You'd best get ready." He blinked in confusion, but made his way into his private bathroom, where he found a set of clothes already hanging from the back of the door.<p>

By the time he was dressed and ready, though still not sure _what_ he had been told to get ready for, his mother had left his room, and the duffle bag she had been filling was gone with her. He looked around, taking in the mess she had left behind; there were dress robes all over the floor, his broom was missing, and his school books were _everywhere_, meaning that wherever he was going, he was going to have to do his summer homework there.

He rolled his eyes as he left his room, and snapped his fingers, summoning a house elf to clean the mess his mother had made. With that taken care of, he strolled down the hall, ignoring the portraits on the wall as they sneered about his posture, he could damn well slouch if he wanted to. By the time he reached the first floor; his room being in the upper most corridor of the manor by his own request, he could hear the voices of his mother and Pansy, gossiping in the sitting room.

Knowing that his father was probably in there as well, he straightened his shoulders and squared off his chin, and entered the room as regally as he could manage. His efforts were not wasted, as he saw the approving look on his father's face, as well as his aunt and uncle's as they looked at him from the couch they were sitting on.

"Good morning," he drawled, offering a slight bow in the direction of his father's sister and her husband, and nodding slightly in the direction of his cousin. "There has been a change in our plans, Draco." Narcissa said, sweeping to her feet, and gesturing openly towards his aunt and uncle, "Larissa and Christophe have decided to come along with Lucius and I. So we will be dropping both you and Pansy off with your godfather this afternoon."

He could tell, by the tense expression on his mother's face that she was as of yet unaware that Pansy already _knew_ about Hermione. He would have been only too happy to tell her himself, if he thought for even a moment that he could do so without his father over hearing. He had a sneaking suspicion that this was all set up by his father, whom had been asking many suspicious questions about the Potions Master over the last month.

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><p>Lucius stood in front of the fire grate in his study, with his younger sister, whom he had never been particularly fond of, and her husband seated not far away. "You're absolutely sure?" He asked, swirling a glass of amber coloured brandy with his slender fingers. "Absolutely." Christophe replied in a lazy drawl, before draining his own glass of brandy.<p>

Lucius swept over to his desk, and pulled open a hidden drawer, smirking at the contents. "How many?" He spun around to face his brother in law, "At least twenty." "Excellent. This should prove to be entertaining."

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><p>Severus was, not surprisingly, brewing a potion when Lucius stepped out of his grate, with Draco and Pansy not far behind. The potions master arched a single eyebrow at the presence of the blonde girl, though he locked his gaze on Lucius quickly, and offered him a very tense greeting.<p>

"Good afternoon Severus," Lucius drawled, looking about the small room with distaste, "I do hope it isn't _much_of an inconvenience, however, my dear sister and her husband have decided to join us. I offered for Pansy to come stay here with Draco." He watched the dark haired man closely as he spoke, though Severus gave him nothing. "Very well, I will simply have another bed made up."

It was tense and silent for a moment, as Lucius tried to find _anything_ to support his theory which had led to him inviting his blasted sister on his trip in the first place. He grew frustrated as he realized that his effort had been for naught. He spun of his heel and was gone without a farewell.

"What is he up to?" Severus turned his eyes on his godson, who only shrugged. "I've no idea. I only found out this morning. Mother nearly had a heart attack, though, when we left." Draco dropped his duffle bag on the floor, only to have his godfather send him a dirty look, "You know where your room is Draco. Take Pansy up to Hermione's room, I need to go speak with someone. Hermione is at the park, you may go there if you like."

Draco rolled his eyes as he picked his bag back up off the floor and led Pansy out of the study and up the stairs. "Pink room on the left, for you. Go put on something muggle." His cousin gave him a blank stare and folded her arms over her chest, "I don't _own_ anything muggle." She said, making him groan. "Then look through her drawers for something to borrow; I'm sure she won't care." He disappeared into his usual room before she could say anything else, and threw his bag down on the cot which had been set up for him.

He had been looking forward to his visit here, until now. Summer was his only break from his annoying cousin; mostly because his father _hated_ his sister and her husband, almost more than he hated muggles. The blonde boy opened his bag and dug deep down, until he could feel the heavy material of his jeans; which he assumed his mother had packed after his father had a house elf pack only robes. He changed quickly, and found a tee shirt, buried way down at the bottom as well, and stepped out into the hall with a pair of trainers in his hands. "Pansy!" He called out; noticing that the door to Hermione's room was still closed, "Hurry up!"

Pansy opened the door, and stepped into the hallway, wearing a dress that left her cousin gaping silently for several moments. "Was that in _Hermione's_ dresser?" He stuttered after he regained his voice, blushing slightly at the thought of the bushy haired Gryffindor girl wearing it instead of Pansy. It was bright pink, and fell down around her knees, with a bright white ribbon tied around her waist. "I know, I was shocked too! It's so cute!" Pansy spun herself around, enjoying the light, flowing material, a pair of wedge sandals in her hands. "We have the same sized feet, too. She has pretty good taste."

Draco frowned slightly, not wanting to point out to his cousin that she looked ridiculous in bright pink, and started for the stairs, "Right, let's go then. Uncle probably won't be back for a while."

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><p>End chapter five!<p>

Okay, first of all, sorry it's been...er, what, like two weeks? Maybe three? I forget, honestly.

I admit I was distracted by LinkXSheik shounen ai for a bit...as I've mentioned already, and am working on a few plot bunnies for them myself.

Sorry.

I'm getting back into the swing of A Girl Named Hermione Granger, though, so don't fret. I wouldn't dare leave you all hanging walf-way through.

Another reason for my delay in posting: Doctor's appointments. I mentioned before the possibility of a bleeding ulcer, and we're still looking into that. I've been having blood tests, ecg's, ultrasounds, and much more to come yet, and of course weekly visits for test results. Let's just say, I'm so glad to be Canadian right now. I love you, MSP. I would never be able to afford all this on my own. And if I had to pay for the stomach scope, I'd rather risk whatever my options are. Seriously.

But, that's not what you all want to hear me talk about. I have plenty of idea's for this year still, and I edited the opening of this chapter quite a bit just now. The original opening sucked. Seriously. This one is much better. Although, I had thought this was the one with the Dramione in it, it's in the next chapter. Oh well, I promise to post it by the end of the week at the latest, okay? And I'll re-read it to make sure it's the most fluffy, adorable, perfect first romance-type scene between them, ever.

Now, about the world cup; I'm not going to lie, it's a daunting chapter to write, and I'm not sure how much I can do for it. I've written forty pages for this story already and I'd like them to be at Hogwarts before I reach a hundred. So...don't kill me...but I may just cut it for now, and do filler flash-backs later. I think it would even out the gaps nicely. Because aside from S.P.E.W. Hermione doesn't have too huge a roll in Goblet of Fire. And I can only add so much fluffy Dramione moments, and so much Snape-worried-shitless-over-voldemort. I'll be trying my best to make the story work. And if I skip the world cup right now, I can get back to writing like crazy again.

One last thing: if, part way through chapter seven or the start of chapter eight, you see a shift in the over-all writing style, that's my bad. My A.G.N.H.G. series is written much lighter than my Legend of Zelda stories, and some of the dark over-tone may carry over. I'll try to keep it going as is though.


	6. Summer Nights

A Girl Named Hermione Granger: Year Four

Chapter Six: Summer Nights

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, it would be a heck of a lot easier to write my stories.  
>Important author note at bottom of page (Good note, not bad note)<p>

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><p>Hermione stood in the goal, playing with the Velcro on her borrowed goalies gloves, waiting impatiently for the game to end. If she had known that they were going to stick her in net, (the one position she'd promised not to play, because it left far too many opportunities for accidental magic,) she would have skipped the game. The only real upside, in her point of view, was that her team was playing Prucila's; the annoying snobbish blonde girl who thought she was better than everyone else.<p>

Usually, as she had heard through her team mates, Prucila's team always won; generally because everyone wanted to be her friend, and not her enemy; however, Hermione held no illusions about wanting to befriend her, and had made sure to stop every single goal she tried to score. Of course, her team still wasn't going to win the match, because all three of the current forwards were in fact friends of Prucila.

With the game down to its final five minutes, Hermione was out of her mind with boredom, because most of the other players on the field were now too lazy to actually try to do anything, other than pass the ball back and forth. So Hermione was enjoying her short break, as everyone else goofed off, when she spotted something that made her very nearly fall over from shock. "Sonnuva –" She gaped in surprise as she watched the approaching pair, almost disbelieving that she was actually seeing what she thought she was.

She had half expected Draco to show up before the end of her game, but she had _not_ been expecting Pansy to come along with him, wearing a bright pink sundress. She could hear the other girls on her team commenting about the attractive blondes as they got ever closer. She laughed nervously as Draco waved in her direction, with Pansy enthusiastically copying him, grateful that the two were at least dressed somewhat normal.

After what felt like _ages_, the ref blew his whistle and she ran out of the net to where her Slytherin friends were waiting on the sidelines, being pestered by those of her teammates who had not been on the field. "Hey, I wasn't expecting –" Before she could even finish her sentence, Prucila appeared, and sneered at her, "Ew, don't you know not to talk to people who are better than you?"

The brunette arched her eyebrow at the girl and rolled her eyes, "Excuse you, _cila_, but these are _my_ friends, and maybe you should follow your own advice." She couldn't help the smirk that claimed her lips as Prucila gave an indignant huff before storming off.

As soon as she was out of hearing range, Pansy mimicked her annoying high-pitched voice. "What was that about?" Draco asked, making the brunette snort. "That was the muggle version of Daphne Greengrass." Hermione said as she made her way to her abandoned purse and threw her gloves into the bag of equipment beside the coach.

"So, what's going on?" She asked quietly, looking pointedly at the Slytherin girl, who was looking quite pleased with herself, as Draco shrugged, "My father thought he was being clever." He said, and Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion, "How did he figure that?" "He's caught on to the fact you're alive, and thought he could startle uncle into giving something away by sending Pansy here with me."

The brunette rolled her eyes, "Well, I guess it's a good thing Pansy already knew." She could feel the eyes of her teammates watching her, and she hung her head, "You want to get some lunch?" She wanted nothing more than to go home now, but she was pretty hungry. "Our fridge is a little on the empty side, and Ju- does Pansy know about Julie?" It had only just occurred to her that the Slytherin girl probably didn't know her father and her older-adoptive sister were together.

Draco shot a sideways look at his cousin before shaking his head, "Nope." Pansy looked between her cousin and the Gryffindor, "Who's Julie?" "I'll tell you over lunch; we can go to this little diner down the street, and I'll tell you there." The blonde girl scrunched her nose at the idea, "A muggle restaurant? We don't have any muggle money."

Hermione sighed, yet again, and placed her hand on Pansy's shoulder, "I have plenty. And yes, it's muggle. But the food is pretty decent." When the other girl still looked resistant, Hermione shot Draco a pleading look, and he convinced his cousin it wouldn't kill her to go there.

However, by the time they had reached the diner and found a corner table, Hermione was beginning to regret her choice in coming here. She could see a familiar head of black hair behind the counter, which belonged to probably the only boy in the whole town that would speak to her; Prucila's boyfriend. She shook her head and tried to ignore the fact that he was watching her as he refilled napkin holders, and ordered three coffees from the server.

"So," Pansy drawled, "Who is Julie?" Hermione tapped her fingers nervously on the table top, "Well, you know I was adopted by a muggle family, right?" Pansy nodded slowly, "Well, Julie is the oldest daughter of the couple who adopted me; and she is also a witch." Of course, Hermione felt she probably didn't need to mention that her father had thought Julie was a muggle when they'd started dating. "And they spent a lot of time together when I came to live with him; so they've sort of ended up together. But you _can't_ tell anyone else."

Pansy's face was blank as the server brought their coffees to the table, and once the server was gone, she let out a dramatic gasp. "No _way_; isn't that weird?" Beside her, Draco snorted, stirring sugar into his coffee, "Actually, it was weirder when we all thought she was a muggle too." He drawled, remembering all too well how he'd first felt when he'd found out. He had to admit he was quite happy to find out Julie was a witch. Hermione chuckled, "Yeah, it was much weirder back then."

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><p>After about a week and half of sharing a room with Pansy, Hermione was desperate to get time alone outside of the house. She hadn't been able to invite Ginny over, and her father had told her she couldn't go and leave her friends unentertained either. Currently, she was hiding in a tall, sheltered willow tree while warm summer rain fell, soaking the ground that had been dried out by the heat.<p>

It had been difficult to climb in her cleats, but her determination to be alone had been enough to get her high enough up that she would not be spotted from the ground.

As much as she usually enjoyed Draco's visits, she wanted to spend the rest of the summer with just her father and Julie, sending letters back and forth with her friends, and studying. She had packed a few textbooks and rolls of parchment into her purse before leaving the house today, so she could do some of her summer homework, only to realize she'd forgotten ink.

She also hadn't been able to spend any time with her father lately, he was constantly brewing potions for Julie, and when he wasn't doing that, he was gone, visiting Dumbledore and who knows who else. She was certain the only reason he ever left them alone in the house is because he assumed Pansy being around would keep anything inappropriate from happening. And it was; though not for lack of effort on Draco's part. He had cornered her four times this week, twice on the roof, and tried to continue the conversation he had started just before the end of school.

She felt like she was going insane. Sometimes, it was even hard to remember why she'd been resistant to the idea of them trying for another date. She wanted to try again, merlin knows, but she was rather worried about her father's reaction. Because of Julie, she knew he didn't really care for the idea, though Julie loved the idea to bits. She just didn't want to go and put _more_ pressure on their relationship, not when things had been improving.

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><p>The night was stifling warm, and despite her best efforts, Hermione just couldn't sleep. She lay on top of her blanket, her hands pressed tight over her ears. The house had been far too quiet, and the sound of the silence was killing her. Her father hadn't been home in over a week, and Julie had gone to stay with Jane and David two weeks ago, after falling ill. She turned to her right and saw Pansy curled up in a mass of cushions and blankets, sleeping like she had no worries at all.<p>

The brunette climbed out of bed quietly and made her way into the hall, navigating her way around the squeaky floor boards, and down the stairs in the little bit of moon light coming in through the windows. The house reminded her of sneaking around the dark halls of the school; it was serene, like she was the last person alive, and so incredibly lonely.

When she reached the landing, she paused at the front door, where she could see a soft white glow through the foggy window in the middle of it. She hesitantly stepped closer and wiped the fog away with the sleeve of her long sleep shirt, and gasped. There was a Patronus standing like a statue, waiting for something, though she had no idea what. She could see enough to decipher that it was a tall, slender, four legged creature, though she couldn't see its front.

It made sense, she supposed, that it was likely cast by her father before he left, to make sure no one entered or left the house when they weren't supposed to. It seemed like something he would be paranoid enough to do, though he had no problem, it seemed, leaving three teenagers to fend for themselves.

Suddenly full of anger, despite the peaceful feelings being emitted by the glowing creature, she turned away from the front door and made her way into the kitchen. She pulled open the freezer and dug around until she found the left over tub of ice cream Julie had brought over before leaving for Wiltshire. She plucked a clean spoon from the sink and sunk down to the floor, so she was hidden by the counters as she pulled the lid off the toffee ice cream.

About an hour later, she heard approaching footsteps and poked her head out of her hiding place just enough to find Draco, wearing nothing but his sleep pants, heading into the kitchen with a frown on his face. "Hermione?" He called out softly, as he stepped onto the cold tiles of the kitchen floor.

She let out a loud sigh and raised her hand over her head so it would show over the top of the counter, "I'm here," she said, resigning herself to losing her peace and quiet. When he stepped around the counter and saw her sitting on the floor he arched an eyebrow at her, before sliding down to the floor beside her. "I was kind of worried when you weren't in bed. But I see you were just pigging out on ice cream." He plucked the now mostly empty tub out of her hands and retrieved the sticky spoon from its depths, "Pleasant." He muttered, not particularly fond of the sticky feeling, though he helped himself to a spoonful anyway.

"How'd you know I wasn't in bed?" She asked tauntingly, hoping to embarrass him, though his relaxed position did not change. "I poked my head in your room. I was going to see if you were awake so we could talk." Hermione groaned inwardly; he was probably the only boy on the _planet_ that wanted to talk about his feelings so badly. Though she was thankful he only tried to bring up this topic when they were alone.

"What is there to talk about?" She asked, hoping with some delusion that it would be about something else – like Quidditch, or something. "Us," He replied firmly, digging out another scoop of the soft ice cream, "You've been avoiding me since before school was out, and you're going to hear me out if I have to glue you to the floor." She resisted the urge to bang her head against the cupboard doors behind her, and snatched the ice cream back.

"Okay, we'll talk. I don't know what you think you can say that's different from everything else, though." She looked up from the tub of ice cream and caught his eyes, but once she saw the frustration swimming in their depths, she wished she hadn't.

"If you're going to hold every single stupid thing I say against me, we're not going to get very much further." His face remained passive, but the tone of his voice was accusing and cold, and it made her shiver in shame. "I don't hold _every_ stupid thing you say against you. Just the hurtful things." "Well I only say hurtful things when you hurt me first." She opened her mouth to call him a liar, but her voice wouldn't work. He was right; of course, the most hurtful barbs they threw at each other usually followed her mentioning her Gryffindor friends, even though she knew it bothered him to hear about them.

"I – You're right. Okay, I'm sorry I cause so many fights." She felt her eyes begin to burn as she apologized, so she turned away before he could see her tears. She hated that he was right; she caused most of the fights and arguments of everyone she knew. She was the reason her father and Julie had been fighting before, she was the reason she and Draco fought, she was the reason Harry and Ron often were mad.

Draco watched, at a loss, as she turned away from him, and her shoulders began to shake. He hadn't intended to make her _cry_, all he'd done was point out the obvious. "Don't cry, 'mione, I'm sorry I was just –" "No," she spun around to face him feeling awful and ugly, with her face all splotchy and red, and tears in her eyes, "don't be sorry. It's my fault, so you don't have to be sorry. You should find someone else to like." Her voice trailed off weakly, and she brought her knees up to her chest so she could rest her chin on them.

"Now you're making me feel bad – how about we pretend the last year didn't happen?" He cupped her cheek with his hand and made her look back at him, giving her a weak smile. She debated inwardly as her eyes swept over his face before she finally lost herself in the depths of his slate gray eyes, "Okay. Last year never happened." She returned his smile and gave him a hug, feeling rather desperate to be close to him now that they had decided to let go of the bad parts.

She wasn't particularly surprised when he pulled away; he was a boy after all, and they weren't as touchy feely as girls were, she was, however, surprised when he leaned in and kissed her. Her heart leapt into her throat as his warm, soft lips pressed against hers, and it took her several moments to relax and, awkwardly, kiss him back.

Encouraged by her response, he pulled her onto his lap, and wrapped his arms around her, one hand gripping her lower back, and the other burying itself in her thick, curly hair. Her own hands moved of their own accord and trailed up over his shoulders until they were buried in his soft silver locks. Tentatively, he opened his mouth, and grazed her lower lip with his tongue; she pulled back for air, her face as red as a tomato. She bit her lip roughly as his eyes slowly slid open, revealing his confusion.

There was no denying she had enjoyed the kiss, as far as first kisses went, she was sure it was the best; but she was a little afraid. She was kissing her oldest friend on the floor of her father's kitchen, in the middle of the night. And all she wanted to do was keep kissing him; but her father could decide to return home at any time, and she didn't want to ruin their perfect first kiss by being walked in on by her father. "Why'd you pull away?" Draco's voice was raspy, and his face was nearly as red as hers, as he realized the awkward position he had placed them in. Hermione took a deep, calming breath, to try and get her heart to stop jumping around like a jackhammer, and leaned forward to press her forehead against his broad, bare shoulder. "We're on the floor of my father's kitchen. Do you have any idea what he'd do if he just so happened to return at this moment?"

Draco laughed softly, and wrapped his arms around her tighter, "You worry too much; he hasn't been here for a week." She chuckled and nodded, feeling as though all her worries had melted away, "You have to admit, this _does_ look bad. And we really should be in bed."

"Yes, you should." The cold drawl of Severus Snape pierced the still air in the kitchen, and made Hermione jump out of Draco's arms, knocking their heads together in the process. They scrambled to their feet, mortified at having been caught, avoiding the hard gaze of the Potions Master. Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably with the hem of her night shirt, "What were you two doing?" She flinched at the clear suspicion in her father's voice.

"Talking." She whispered, glancing up quickly to see her father's face. "And?" He pushed, knowing that they had obviously been doing more than just talking, although the only thing he had actually heard from them was her saying they ought to have been in bed. Hermione felt like her face was on fire, she was far too embarrassed to actually admit that they had been kissing, and for once in his life, Draco had nothing to say for himself, as he stood awkwardly beside the brunette, squirming under his godfather's gaze.

Severus waited for several minutes, but received no answer, and brought his hand up to rub at his temples, where he could feel a head ache building. "Go to bed, now. If I catch you out of bed again, you're going to be in serious trouble, _both_ of you." They scurried past him, and he didn't move until he heard the doors to both of their rooms close.

He made his way to his study, feeling very drained, and in need of a very strong drink. He had not meant to be gone for so long, but he'd had no choice. And although he didn't know for sure what he'd interrupted, he knew it was one of the few things he had not wanted to have occur between his daughter and his godson.

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><p>End Chapter Six!<p>

Okay, so you're all probably frustrated as hell...it's been a couple months or so. But, I have a few points of good news.

Number one: after like three months of doctors visits and blah-blah-blah, I'm _finally_ feeling good again. Still waiting on a scope into my stomach to search out an ulcer, but I haven't been as sick, weak, or tired (or frustrated) lately. Also, even if I do have an ulcer, I can name what's causing it and that always feels pretty good, knowing what's causing things. Don't worry, I won't be dropping dead any time soon (unless some jerk hits me with a car.)

Number two: I'm back into my writing! I've even typed up some fun filler for before the world cup, and I'm taking a stab at writing that too.

Number three: The Dramione has begun! Awe, their first kiss. And there's more to come, though it may go a bit slow for a while yet.

Number four: I don't know if this is 'good' news, but I'm beginning the heavy deviations from the plot line of the Harry Potter books now. I will still have, generally, the big events, but the serious turns pretty heavy onto Harry's inner thoughts and actions from book four on, so it had to be done anyway. Also, I just don't have time to re-read the fourth book, write new chapters, and put together my painting collection. I also haven't really got a whole lot of time to go back and re-read my own stories to keep up with every little detail - but all the big details have been worked out already on seperate documents so that I can keep them straight. I was smart, and thought ahead about that.

So, I'll be cutting this rambling authors note off here, with a sincere thank you to every one who has reviewed my story - the old fans and the new.

I WILL have chapter Seven up in less than a week.


	7. You And Your Logic

A Girl Named Hermione Granger: Year Four

Chapter Seven: You And Your Logic

Discaimer: I don't own anything.

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><p>After Draco and Pansy were sent home, Hermione had found herself living in lock down; although she hadn't <em>actually<em> been grounded. After the night in the kitchen, her father hadn't brought it up again, either. It was now nearing the end of August, and she was due to go to the Burrow for the rest of the summer.

She sat on her bed, books spread out in front of her, with the sun light filtering in her window, gleaming off the hard covers, and their curly silver writing. She had received her list of new school books this morning; a perk to having a teacher as a father, and she was wondering how on earth she was going to fit everything. Her father had told her to pack up whichever of her items she absolutely needed, and then he would be taking her to Diagon Alley for her new robes and books.

The very first thing she had packed, and quickly covered with her customary muggle clothes (for the weekends of course,) was the one book she had removed from her Gringotts vault. She had not been able to bring herself to read it under her father's roof; feeling a little like she was betraying his trust. So she had decided she would be reading it at school instead.

She climbed off her bed and grabbed her broom; she would definitely be bringing it his year. Over the summer, while she had visited Ginny at the Burrow, she had grown rather comfortable with flying; not to mention the number of times she had flown up to the roof. She leaned it carefully against the open lid of her school trunk, and looked around; all of her old robes were much too short now, and she'd thoroughly memorized her old school books. She could think of little else to pack.

She grabbed her purse from its resting place and left her room, taking the stairs two at a time, "Dad?" She called out as she reached the lower landing, "Julie?" The house was eerily quiet, though the front door was propped open slightly, to let in a draft of air. She made her way to the door and poked her head out as she heard faint voices drifting on the wind.

She was mildly surprised to see Julie out in her front garden, chatting amicably with some muggle neighbours; Julie had been given strict bed rest orders from the doctor when she'd finally returned from Jane and David's. She was, however, greatly surprised when her father stepped out of the front door of Julie's house, carrying a faded black travel mug, and dressed in dark gray jeans and the same green shirt he had made her wear at the beginning of the summer.

Hermione watched through the crack in the door as Julie accepted the mug; telling her new muggle friends that it was a secret recipe tea, before placing a chaste kiss to Severus' cheek. The exchange looked so normal that the fourteen year old felt like she was spying on someone else's family for a moment. She had rarely seen her father dress down in muggle clothes, and she had never seen him converse willingly with the muggle neighbours either.

Though she supposed it had to do with the rumors that had been floating around the small town; it was amazing how people frowned upon the idea of single mothers, not that Julie was a single mother, though she had appeared to be for a while.

The scene next door made her think of her home before Hogwarts; Julie and her father looked like a happily married couple expecting their first child; she guessed the neighbours would never guess that he had a fourteen year old daughter watching them from a crack in the door, like a horrible secret burden. She sort of wished to go outside and include herself in the family event, but she was afraid to ruin their moment.

She retreated into the kitchen and reached into her purse, drawing out her wand and placing it on the table top. She hadn't touched it since her night in London, until now, as she spun it around in circles, broodily watching the tip spin round and round.

When she grew bored of that, she drew out handfuls of galleons, sickles and knuts, and began stacking them into tall towering piles. She continued building, adding walls between the turrets, and using what remained of her muggle money to add a roof and the front gates.

This was how Severus found her half an hour later; sitting in the kitchen building a scale model of Hogwarts out of coins and bills. He froze in the doorway, watching in awe as she finally finished. She looked up and saw her father gaping at her model, and she quickly knocked it over, "I'm ready to go now," She said quickly, scooping everything back into her purse.

Severus watched his daughter pour the large amount of coins into her purse and felt a little bit conflicted. Should he be somewhat proud she had built an exact replica of Hogwarts from memory; or angry that she had withdrawn so much money on her last visit to Gringotts? His mind was decided when he noticed that she was waiting for him to scold her. "That was rather impressive." He said slowly, delighting inwardly in the embarrassed smile that came over her face at the praise.

* * *

><p>Diagon Alley was nearly devoid of life, aside from the shop owners, and Hermione guessed it was because of the Quidditch world cup. "Why do I need to get dress robes?" She currently had her list of needed supplies in front of her face, she was particularly curious about the newly required formal wear. She had never seen the older students wear anything fancy before, nor had she heard Fred and George complain about it.<p>

Severus chuckled as he walked beside his daughter, "There may be a formal event this year at which you should dress up." He replied, not wanting to give up any more details. He had spent the better part of his summer assisting Dumbledore in setting it up; he didn't want to spoil the surprise. "What kind of formal event? A dance?" She pushed, but her father just shook his head, "I won't say. Just get something nice."

She sighed and looked back down at her list, "Will you help me pick it out?" "I'm sure you'd rather I didn't." He did not particularly want to end up sitting in Madam Malkins' Robes For All Occasions, for the entire afternoon; at least partially because he didn't want to know how her dress robes would look. He remembered his first formal ball; as a Slytherin student he had been forced to attend, and he remembered how the girls had dressed _then_.

"Okay, can you get my ingredients from the Apothecary while I'm picking out dress robes?" She usually preferred to pick out all of her own supplies; but she had a good feeling that her father would probably be hiding out in the Apothecary while she was trying on robes anyway. "I will give you an hour." He said, stopping as they reached the front of the robe shop.

She watched him leave before entering the warm, cozy shop, and heading over to find a rack full of long, flowing, colourful robes. She flipped through the ones on display and chewed on her lip, most of the ones here were sort of awful. Just as she was about to give up, her eyes landed on a beautiful Periwinkle blue dress. She pulled it off the hanger and pressed it up against herself, surprised to find it was the right size. As she turned to find someone to help her with the new school robes she would need, her eyes landed on something that just screamed Ginny's name to her. Deciding she still owed the younger girl a proper birthday present, she grabbed it as well.

When she walked into the Apothecary forty five minutes later, with her over stuffed bag of robes, including two boxes, her father gave her a questioning look. "I found a present for Ginny." She explained, and he rolled his eyes in amusement, "The formal event is for fourth years and older." Her face fell slightly, disappointed her young friend wouldn't be able to use her present, but she shrugged, "Well, then she'll have it for future events."

They went to Flourish and Blotts next, and she ended up buying several extra books, along with the ones on her list, several new quills, and at least ten new bottles of ink. By the time they had returned home, Hermione was beginning to feel utterly exhausted. "I still have to pack too," she groaned as she dumped all of her bags and boxes onto her bed.

* * *

><p>The sound of crickets permeated the still summer air as Hermione lay on an old cot in Ginny's room. Her school things were tucked under the window, where faded purple curtains hung limply with no breeze to move them. The cot she was occupying took up most of the floor space in Ginny's cramped room, and if she were to let her arm hang over the edge of it, she could rest her hand on Ginny's bed in all of its eclectic glory. Still, Hermione was quite happy at the moment.<p>

Her father had dropped her off two days before, and rushed off without much of a proper goodbye. But all the tension that had been building at home since the night her father had found her in the kitchen with Draco was gone. "Hermione, you still awake?" The whisper from Ginny was so quiet that the brunette nearly didn't hear her.

"Yeah," Hermione shifted her head so she was looking at the blurry silhouette of her friend, "Can't sleep?" A soft rustling movement indicted the younger girl had shaken her head, "Ah, no, I'm too…nervous, I guess…"

The fourteen year old couldn't help the breathy chuckle that rushed forth. Harry was going to be arriving tomorrow, and Hermione knew that Ginny was nervous because her little crush on the dark haired boy never seemed to fade away. "Don't be nervous Ginny," she tried to sooth the younger girl, but was met with an irritated sigh.

"I can't help it – I really like him, but why did he and Ron have to get all friendly? It'd be easier to have a crush on him if my brother didn't talk about him non-stop."

Hermione chuckled again and bit her lip when she felt the red head's glare through the darkness. "If he and Ron hadn't become friends, then you and I wouldn't have either, because I would have wound up smooshed by that troll in my first year."

There was a moment of silence before Ginny burst into giggles, "You and your logic!"

Satisfied with the ease in the dark, cramped room, the two girls slowly drifted to sleep, dreaming of snitches, and two similar, but very different, seekers.

* * *

><p>The sun beat down on the parched meadow as Hermione sat leisurely on her broom, eating an apple that had previously been used by Ginny and herself for Quidditch practice.<p>

"So, you never did tell me what happened when the Slytherin's were over," Ginny drawled, hanging upside down from her own broom, low enough to the ground that her palms were pressed lightly into the dry dirt.

"Well, you never asked," Hermione said quickly, tossing the now bare apple core over her shoulder and into some bramble bushes. "I'm asking now, c'mon, 'mione, I want to know. You're always so skittish when Ron's around, but he's down at the house with Fred and George."

Of course Hermione didn't want to tell Ginny about Draco's visit when Ron was within hearing range; her friends didn't exactly get along, and who knew what Ron (and Harry, because Ron would tell Harry,) would say if he found out she'd kissed Draco? She'd rather not find out.

"You promise not to let Ron and Harry find out? Or any of your brothers, for that matter?"

"Cross Merlin's heart and a toad's eye."

Hermione snorted at the obscure wizard saying and lowered her broom so she was much closer to where Ginny was floating, wary of any eavesdroppers, "Well, for the most part it was nice to have company at home. Dad was gone a lot and then Julie was sick, so I got left alone with Draco and Pansy." A slight frown tugged at her lips as she recalled the first few days; trying to do homework, but being constantly bothered by one Slytherin or the other.

"Draco – he was particularly insistent on talking to me. Remember when I was telling you about the argument he and I had just before the end of school?" Ginny swung herself upright on her broom and nodded eagerly, leaning forward on her broom as the handle dug into her palms.

It had been glorious to have a friend she could confide such things in. As soon as she and Ginny had begun to grow closer, Hermione had opened up and confessed the whole of her feelings to the red haired girl, and in turn, Ginny had owned up to the depth of her crush on Harry – not that _that_ was much of a secret.

"Well, he wanted to talk about that, mostly. I avoided him pretty well for most of the visit, but he cornered me in the kitchen in the middle of the last night he and Pansy were there. We both sort of apologized, and we decided we should pretend like last year never happened." Hermione felt a blush creep up onto her cheeks as Ginny leaned even closer, waiting for more.

"And –" the brunette shifted awkwardly and let her eyes drop to the polished handle of her broom, "and then he kissed me –" Ginny's jaw dropped and there was silence for the space of a second before the younger girl squealed and clasped her hands together in front of her face as the brunette flushed furiously and tried to bury her face into her own hands. "And then my dad came home."

Ginny's excited squeal turned into raucous laughter, and her broom lowered to the ground so she could get her feet on solid ground. "You – your first kiss got interrupted by your dad!" Ginny snorted and slapped a hand over her mouth as Hermione touched down on the ground beside her. "I can't even imagine – Snape walking in on you and Draco – the horror," Ginny continued on, howling with laughter for the next ten minutes.

By the time the worst of the red head's laughing fit was done, Hermione's blush had managed to fade, and the fourteen-year-old was tapping her foot impatiently in the dirt. "Yes, yes, I know that's funny and all, but we should go back for lunch – and don't you dare tell anyone! You've promised!" "Of course I won't, 'mione, I think my brother would have kittens if he knew you kissed Malfoy!"

Hermione stiffened as she was reminded of the rather awkward confession that had spurred the decision to tell Ginny about Draco in the first place. Shortly after they'd begun to hang out, Ginny had casually mentioned something she'd seen in Ron's room – a rather crumpled valentine that had been addressed to her. It had brought to light something that Hermione had begun to notice whenever Ron and Harry would actually spend time with her during the school year. Ron was harbouring a very minor; almost not-there crush on her.

She could have ignored the signs forever, until Ron found someone else to focus on, if Ginny hadn't noticed. But the younger girl had, and she'd even tried to push the idea a little, until Draco floated into the equation.

"Good, that's not really a bridge I want to cross just yet." Things were bound to get ugly when that came to light; IF that came to light. Resting their brooms over their shoulders, the two Gryffindor girls meandered through the bluff of trees that blocked the make-shift Quidditch pitch from the view of the Burrow.

* * *

><p>The rest of the day passed in an exciting blur as Hermione assisted Ron with setting up a cot in his room for Harry, while Fred and George made a large amount of suspicious noises in their room, and Ginny was helping her mother down in the kitchen.<p>

"What time is it now, Hermione?" The fourteen-year-old did her best not to roll her eyes as she straightened out the sheets on the cot; it was the fifth time in as many minutes that Ron had asked that question. "It's still half six, Ron, and for the last time, your dad said he was going to call you down when he was ready to fetch Harry."

Satisfied that the wrinkles were all out of the fabric, and no longer able to pretend she was doing anything, Hermione turned to face Ron where he sat on his bed, wearing some shabby old jeans and a terribly red shirt. "What time are we leaving in the morning?" Awkwardness had gripped the two of them firmly since she had come to stay, and it was such a painful awkwardness that Hermione had endeavoured to keep as close to Ginny as possible, knowing the two youngest Weasley's didn't like to spend time together during the summers.

Ron shrugged and picked at the fraying bottoms of his jeans, "Dunno, before sunrise, I expect. Dad says we're walking a ways out before we get to the portkey." His blue eyes were darting about the room, fixing themselves on everything they could – everything except for Hermione. Despite popular opinion, Ron was very much aware of the growing awkwardness between himself and Hermione, and he was at a loss as to figuring out how to stop it – short of keeping Harry as a constant presence.

"That's helpful Ron, really," she drawled dryly, supressing a soft chuckle as his freckled face flushed red and his eyes finally settled on his hands, "Well it's not like he told me a specific time or anything. I've hardly had a chance to talk to my dad since Snape dropped you here."

"He didn't 'drop' me here, Ron, you make it sound like I've been abandoned." Hermione snapped as she made her way to the door leading to the winding staircase that would free her from Ron's indelicate presence. "How d'you know he'll take you back at the end of the year? You brought an awful lot of stuff here." In a flurry of thick brown hair and a flash of her pink, long sleeved shirt, Hermione spun on her heel once more and smacked her friend on his arm in warning. "I brought my school things here, Ron, and that's it. My dad won't be abandoning me here forever. He's had me for three years, and until Voldemort comes back, I'm staying with him."

Ron snorted and rubbed his arm grumpily, "I was just making an observation, Hermione, you didn't have to hit me," he grumbled as she stormed out of his room, casting a glare over her shoulder at him. As soon as she was out of sight, Ron dropped his head into his hands and groaned. He'd been trying to act like a concerned friend, and somehow, he'd ended up being a jerk to Hermione – again. He just couldn't get it right. "RON! I'VE GOT THE FLOO UP, GET DOWN HERE!" Arthur's shout echoed up the stairs, and was followed by grunting and groaning and banging from the ghoul in the attic as Ron hoped off his bed; the disastrous conversation with Hermione already brushed aside in his mind as he planned what to do with Harry later that night before bed.

* * *

><p>Several hours and a large supper later, Harry and Ron were sitting on their respective cot and bed, sharing a box of slightly stale Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans.<p>

"That looks like it might be spinach, Harry," Ron said cautiously as he took a long hard look at the flecked green jelly bean currently being held up by the dark haired boy. "I think it looks like apple," Harry replied, breaking the bean in half, "A knut to whoever guessed right?"

Ron accepted the half bean with a grimace, "Alright, but I did warn you." They each popped their half into their mouths and spit it out just as fast – it had indeed been spinach.

"So, how's it been having Hermione over for the last few days? You two getting closer yet?" Harry asked as he fished a single bronze coin out of his money bag to toss onto his best friend's bed. Ron shrugged as he scooped up the coin and tucked it into his pillow case with the rest of the money he had been saving all summer for the world cup. "Not really, she and Gin are getting pretty close though. Always giggling and gossiping. Worst part of it is Snape's the one dropping her off all the time. I've run into him in my own house I don't even know how many times."

Harry's brow knotted together as he frowned, digging around the carton for a harmless-looking bean, "So she really is living with him? I thought that was a joke – what's he like in the summer?" He plucked two cream coloured beans out of the box and threw one at Ron before popping the other into his mouth as the red head gave him a sour look. "He's an ass, just like in class, but he was wearing muggle clothes a couple times, and he reeks like firewhiskey half the time. I think 'mione's out of her gourd, saying he's a great dad. Maybe he's controlling her."

Swallowing his bean with a grimace – it had been horseradish – Harry rolled his green eyes and set the box of beans on the floor so he could lie down. "Ron, we already got reassured by Dumbledore, what more do you want? I don't like him any more than you do, but Hermione seems pretty happy to call him her dad."

"Well then why didn't she tell us sooner?" Ron asked, eating his own bean and laying down on top of his faded orange comforter. "Probably because we accused Snape of trying to steal the sorcerer's stone to revive Voldemort in our first year." The boy replied without missing a beat as he placed his glasses on the tiny table between the cot and bed and tucked his arms behind his head. "Oh yeah…she still could have said something though."

* * *

><p>End chapter seven.<p>

I wasn't exactly planning to post this until Sunday or Monday, but I've had a very trying day and decided "what the hell, why not."

My email got hacked for the second time in as many months and hotmail froze it, so I've been switching everything over to a new one. And my boyfriend is being forced to work all weekend and therefore had to back out of a trip to visit some of my family this weekend, and now, _now_ I have to spend the next two days listening to my brothers rag on me about it. And they _never_ waste time in doing that. Ever wish you were an only child?

Right, so I'll stop my bitching now...just, I had to get that off my chest somewhere, and I don't wanna deal with the stress and fuss I'd get if I did it on facebook and fml always rejects me...

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and there were no errors - I didn't really proof read this one. I'll have the next chapter up by the end of next week; possibly skipping right to the end of the world cup, but maybe not. I have a half assed attempt at the camping bit written already.


	8. Foot In Mouth Disease

A Girl Named Hermione Granger: Year Four

Chapter Eight: Foot In Mouth Disease

Disclaimer: I wish I owned it, but I don't.

* * *

><p>Hermione and Ginny sat bleary eyed at the overstuffed table in the kitchen, helping here and there as Arthur Weasley attempted to cram two large camping tents, two pots, three pans, and enough food to feed ten people for two days, into a single rucksack, without resorting to using magic.<p>

It was, to say the least, rather amusing.

"I don't know how muggles manage with this. It won't fit!" Arthur huffed as he slumped down in his chair at the head of the table, taking a long drink from his tea.

Hermione snorted into her cup of coffee and decided it was time to take pity on her friend's father and give some advice. "Actually, muggles usually need an entire truck to carry everything for camping." As usual, the mention of anything related to muggle behaviour caused a look of awe to sweep over Arthur's face and he let out a whistle; "So not even a muggle could get all that in one bag? That makes me feel a bit better about my struggle."

Ginny picked her at her toast as she watched Hermione separate the pile of camping supplies until it would fit in two bags, with minimal magic. Normally, her father could have simply waved his wand and fit everything into the single bag, and that would have been the end of the struggle. However, the world cup was being held in a forest surrounded by muggle campsites. Thus the conundrum had come to be.

By the time everything was sorted and Hermione had returned to her cup of coffee, Molly was ushering a swarm of yawning, still half asleep boys into the kitchen. "Now you've all over slept and you haven't any time to eat before you leave – don't pout at me, I came 'round an hour ago. You could have all eaten by now."

Charcoal brown and green eyes met over the tops of empty mugs, and the two girls silently agreed to not inform the boys that they'd already eaten. It wasn't their fault if they were easier to wake than the boys were.

* * *

><p>The camp site was alive and bursting at the seams with magic, tents were bursting with colours and gadgets, showing off knowledge's and talents – wizards had a terrible habit for showing off. "Did everything suddenly get green?" Harry's voice drew Hermione's attention from a distant tent where a mother was scolding a two year old that had been playing with his father's wand and a slug.<p>

A quick glance at their surroundings confirmed that Harry was right; every tent and decoration in a twenty foot radius of where they stood, and further, were green. "You lot better be rooting for Ireland!" Seamus was bounding toward Hermione, Harry and Ron with excitement written all over his face as the three tried to pass through the small lane. Hermione couldn't help but snicker behind her hand as Harry and Ron exchanged a nervous look – neither of the boys appeared to have given a thought to who they were cheering for.

Of course, neither had she, but that was because she didn't really follow Quidditch too closely, and her father had had no opinions to offer on the matter. But, if cheering for Ireland gave her the excuse to wear green for the day without being judged by fellow Gryffindor classmates, who was she to argue? "Of course we are, I can't wait to see them wipe the Bulgarian's off their brooms." Harry assured Seamus as the sandy haired boy turned his attention to Hermione.

"Never figured _you_ for a Quidditch fan Granger, or are you just tagging along because Ron and Harry are here?"

Ron spluttered off to the side as he and Harry gaped in shock at their dorm mate – they couldn't believe the tone he had just used.

Hermione just sighed and rolled her eyes at the taller boy, "_What you don't know could fill several large books, Seamus._" She thought, not wanting to start a confrontation with the brash boy. "I'm here of my own accord, Seamus. I've a bit of a soft spot for brooms." She regretted having opened her mouth moments later as Seamus sidled up closer to her and winked, "I could take you up on my broom sometime."

Hermione took a quick step back and raised an eyebrow at Seamus in shock, "I've my own, thanks."

Ron, having watched the exchange in shocked silence, found his tongue as Seamus moved to close the distance between himself and Hermione again, and he cleared his throat loudly, "Sorry mate, we…er…we gotta go. Fetching water for breakfast. C'mon 'mione, Harry."

The trio made their escape and once they were well out of earshot, Hermione turned to her red headed friend and laughed, "Thanks Ron; that was getting a little weird." She had thought, for one brief moment, that Ron and Harry would have let her flounder, trying to brush off the surprising advances of the other Gryffindor boy, but she was relieved that they had her back.

* * *

><p>The water was bubbling away merrily on the fire as the three fourth years lounged behind the smaller of the two tents that had been set up; the older Weasley boys having wandered off in search of school friends, and Ginny having gone for a nap while waiting for the fire to heat.<p>

"You haven't written much this summer, Hermione, what have you been up to?" Harry sat sitting cross legged in the patchy grass, toying with the laces on his trainers which were about two sizes too big for his feet.

"Oh, well, I was in a summer league, playing football with the kids in town. I did homework, yes, you can copy it Ron, but you're writing your own essay." Hermione chided as Ron opened his mouth to protest. "Let's see…what else…Oh, I've been visiting with Ginny a lot – don't look so put out Harry, my dad wasn't crazy about the idea either and I couldn't very well floo to your aunt and uncle's, and I live a good two hours from where you are."

"You lot get to have all the fun. You get to hang out and fly your brooms and go see films, while I have to resort to studying my texts in the middle of the night underneath the bed sheets." The bitterness was buried deep in his tone, but the fourteen-year-old girl picked up on it with ease and rolled her eyes. "It's not all that glamorous Harry, I've spent a great deal of time doing chores for Julie – she's moved in to the house next to us."

Ron chose this moment to bring himself into the conversation, by laughing awkwardly, "Ginny told me you got left in London when you helped her move. Did you really run into a werewolf? D'you reckon it was Lupin?"

"I don't know Ron, I didn't get a very good look at it; the knight bus pulled me aboard before I really knew what was going on." She shuddered as the memory of the dark, lonely night fell over her mind, "Dad nearly blew everything the next morning. Soon as he realized that I wasn't with Julie or Jane or David; came to the Leaky cauldron and hammered down the door to my room – I think Tom knows now, too. A whole lot of people know…" It bothered her more than she thought it would, to know that the secret was fast becoming public knowledge.

Harry and Ron, well she was fine with them knowing. And of course Dumbledore and a few select teachers' knew; and Draco's mother, she could handle that. But, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy and Blaise knew too; and so did the entire Weasley family. And potentially a bar tender in Diagon Ally. Add that all up, and it's not even half as dangerous as the fact that Wormtail knows. Soon, she wouldn't be able to hide, and she knew it would cause a huge ripple effect. People didn't like being lied to.

"Hey, don't worry, 'mione, even if it does get out, we've got your back." Harry reached over and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and she attempted to smile weakly, "I'm not too worried about my back, if this gets out any more Harry, I'm worried about the front. It's the confrontations I can't stand."

With a shiver, she shifted and scooted over to sit between the boys and threw her arms around their shoulders, "Let's not think about it for now, we're at the world cup for Merlin's sake! Let's take in the sights – lunch will be a while yet I bet."

* * *

><p>A tiny little figurine prowled moodily across the palm of Ron's hand, the red head quite thoroughly delighted to have been able to purchase it from the wandering merchants in the camp area. "Victor Krum, he's the youngest professional seeker, only eighteen! He's still in school," Ron boasted as harry and Hermione watched the magical figurine, one in awe and the other with a furrowed brow.<p>

"He looks remarkably like, well," Hermione hesitated a moment and dropped her voice so the boys had to lean in closer to hear her, "he looks remarkably like Kathrine." She let her eyes sweep over the slouched shoulders and mop of dark hair, the surly face and thick black eyebrows. Indeed, she could see a few similarities.

Ron scowled and pulled back from the huddle, bringing the figurine close to his chest protectively, "Don't be ridiculous, Krum doesn't have anything to do with any death eaters, he's – he's a Quidditch player!"

Harry sighed and stepped back to examine his new golden omnioculars, not wanting to be too close to the argument that was undoubtedly about to break out.

"Honestly Ron, you don't have to be so – you can't tell just by _looking_ at a person!" Hermione huffed, crossing her arms as she fixed the red head with a glare so intense, Harry was certain she'd learned it from her father. "Oi, you can too, sometimes. Take Snape for example, one look at him and I _knew_ he was a no good – er, 'mione, what are you doing with that?"

The second Ron had let her father's name slip, Hermione had clutched her own omnioculars so tight that her knuckles began to turn stock white; and before Ron had even finished his sentence, she had them raised and ready to lash out and strike him with them. It was just incredibly fortunate for the red head that Arthur chose that moment to come around the tent with Ginny at his heels, "Oh there you are – come! I want you all to meet – Hermione, why are you about to…you know what? Never mind, just come over here and save that for later."

Put off by the new audience, Hermione let her hand drop back to her side, still clutching the omnioculars far tighter than was necessary, and spun on her heel to go stand by Ginny and hopefully get a hold of her current anger. She wasn't quite certain _why_ Ron's words had bothered her as badly as they did, as she had grown to accept that her two friends would never like her father.

Harry and Ron stayed behind a moment as Hermione disappeared around the tent with Arthur and Ginny, and the shorter of the two ran his hand through his dark, messy hair with a sigh of relief. "Ron, you are so lucky your dad showed up when he did." Both boys were quite well aware of how hard Hermione could hit – they'd seen the proof of that when she had decked Malfoy during the school year. "Blimey, don't I know it. Do me a favour? Next time I start putting my foot in my mouth; tell me shut up, yeah?"

A snort of laughter escaped the dark haired boy as he made his way to join the others at the front of the tent, "Only if you do the same for me." "Deal."

When the two boys finally came around to the front of the tent, they saw Fred and George making an exchange with a man in vibrant yellow and black striped Quidditch robes, with the picture of a wasp over his chest. One look at him was enough to have the boys decide that he was a man trying to relive his prime – and failing. His nose was crooked, and his gut protruded under his robes and over all, he looked nothing like the brilliant Quidditch player he had used to be. For they knew instantly that he was Ludo Bagman, former member of the England team. His profile was covered in a few different Quidditch books they had stumbled across in the library.

"Pleasure doing business with you boys, such guts, don't fancy your odds." Ludo exclaimed with a broad grin as he slipped a book and quill into his pocket. Judging by the disapproving look on Hermione's face, Harry could tell the twins had placed a bet – an outlandish one, probably – on the outcome of the match.

"I really don't think –" Arthur voiced his protests, not for the first time, but was cut off by Ludo waving his hand dismissively, "Come now Arthur, they're old enough to know what they want. Now, don't suppose you could do me a brew? I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch, my Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties and I can't understand a word of it. But Barty'll figure it out, speaks about a hundred fifty languages."

Hermione watched from beside Ginny as Percy perked up at the mention of Mr. Crouch. She vaguely recalled having heard that Percy was working as an assistant to him in the Ministry since he had graduated from Hogwarts at the beginning of the summer; but as she and Percy were far from being close – thanks to a few choice words he had never bothered to take back – she didn't know much more than that on the matter, nor did she care to. Turning to Ginny she whispered an apology and slipped away from the camp for a while, to wander on her own.

Excitement was starting to build up by the time Hermione had returned to the camp, holding a few programmes and a bag of chocoballs – filled with strawberry mouse and clotted cream – in a much better mood than she had been. Sugar, so it seemed, had done a wonderful job to ease her temper.

"It's time!" Arthur exclaimed with excitement as a loud gong rang out through the area, and a path of green and red lanterns appeared in the forest not far from where their tents were set up. Hermione felt excitement bubble up in her chest as she handed each of her friends a programme and popped another chocoballs into her mouth, before following Mr. Weasley and the rest down the path towards the Quidditch pitch that had been constructed deep in the forest.

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><p>Hermione was fit to burst as she reclined in her seat in the private box. They were on level with the goal posts, and in the exact middle of the pitch; on her right, Harry was conversing with a house elf named Winky. She was trying very hard to not get worked up when she confessed that she was terrified of heights, but saving the seat next to her for her master – like a good, obedient house elf should. She hated how house elves were treated by wizards, especially considering that they were actually quite powerful magical creatures. Wouldn't it be much wiser on the wizard's behalf to treat the house elves well?<p>

Trying to distract herself from where her train of thoughts was headed, Hermione flipped open her programme and skimmed the events, "There's going to be a display of the team's mascots before the match," she read aloud, once the house elf had turned away and Harry's attention had wandered back towards his friends.

"Oh, that's always worth watching," Arthur hummed with a grin from where he was seated at the end of the row. "National teams bring creatures from their homeland to put on a bit of a show."

For the next half hour, while Hermione was scolding Ron and Harry for toying with their omnioculars to watch people in the stands further down, witches and wizards piled into the box, filling up the twenty or so seats.

A shiver ran down her spine as she was in the midst of checking out the many nobs and dials on her own pair of omnioculars, and she glanced around to lock eyes with perhaps the most dangerous man to her comfortable life – Lucius Malfoy. Narcissa and Draco were standing just behind him, and each flashed her a quick, almost invisible smile, before pretending as though they were distressed to find not only her and Harry in the top box, but the Weasley's as well. To the left of Lucius was Cornelius Fudge, trying to introduce as many people as he could to the wealthy, stuck up blonde man, despite the fact that half the people in the box seemed to only speak Bulgarian.

The moment Arthur locked eyes with Lucius tension filled the box, and Hermione wondered if she could sneak out for a bit, instead of sitting through the insults that were likely to be slung back and forth at any moment. Unsurprisingly, it was Lucius to go first.

"Good lord Arthur, what did you have to sell to get seats up here? I sincerely doubt your house would have fetched this much." Fudge, of course, was oblivious to the insult behind the words, or perhaps just not listening, as he babbled on about the latest donation Lucius had made to St Mungo's.

Before he left to take his seat, Lucius turned his cold stare back to Hermione, the look in his eyes clearly telling her that he was highly suspicious of her, even if he had no proof of anything. It frightened her to know that he not only suspected her father of having lied about her being alive, but that he seemed to have an inkling that she was in fact her father's daughter and not the muggle born she pretended to be. Considering the last time he had figured it out, he'd attacked her in the middle of a public park. She was worried that the memory charm her father had cast on him may have been slipping.

Feigning innocence, she turned to face the front of the box again and began to ask Ron to show her the way the omnioculars worked, trying to act as though she hadn't already figured them out; seeing as Harry was having a hell of a time trying to sort out what dial did what.

Before long, Ludo Bagman came rushing into the box and began the announcing of the Quidditch cup with a magically enhanced voice.

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><p>End chapter eight!<p>

I know, it's been a week longer than intended, to get this chapter up, and you're all going to hate me, but the next chapter skips to the death eater attack after the match. I simply don't have motivation to write more on the Quidditch at the moment. You'd be waiting another two weeks at least, and I'd rather not do that to you; especially seeing as my writing mojo is coming back.

I had some fun with this chapter, took a few liberties with the events, and Seamus. And Krum. Boy have I thought up something amazing for him. (Imagine my evil grin here)

Those of you who guess it, shhhh, lets keep it between us till I pop it out in a few chapters.

I'm actually terribly embarrassed to admit this, but I've forgotten the way I described Hermione's eye colour in previous stories in this series. I fully intend to re-read years one through three and fix anything I've buggered that needs to be fixed. But I think most of you are just excited enough I've returned, and probably wont ring me out to dry over any itty-bitty mistakes.

I did want this chapter to be a little fuller, but I was also eager to post it and let you all know I'm still writing. On the bright side, I quite amused myself with the events above, and I think you'll be relatively amused too.

I'll end my author ramble now, and bid you all good day, and offer my thanks over the reviews I've received, with the switch over on my email, I lost the messages containing most of them, I think, but I don't remember receiving any questions that needed answering... but if I did, and the question still stands, please ask again and I'll answer it in the end of the next chapter (which I will post on or by Wednesday next week - no more than six days from now.


	9. Panic In The Heat Of The Night

A Girl Named Hermione Granger: Year Four

Chapter Nine: Panic In The Heat Of The Night

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

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><p>The still night air was pierced with terrified shrieks and screams; inside the green canvas tent Hermione found herself being jostled awake by Ginny. "Wake up!" The red haired girl hissed in panic, her eyes wide with fear, "Hermione, wake up!"<p>

The fourteen year old brunette opened her eyes blearily, groaning with exhaustion as the sounds of mass panic blurred together in her ears. "What – what is it Ginny?" She asked with a wide yawn as the red haired girl, who was only thirteen, grabbed her by the arm and proceeded to hoist her out of the semi-comfortable bed. "Something's happening…we need to get to the other –" Hermione's foggy thoughts began to clear as a bright red flash of light illuminated the tent, and the front was forced open by several people.

"Get up, hurry!" Mr. Weasley said hoarsely, his eyes landing on the two girls. "You children have to get into the forest and hide – and for goodness sake, stick together!" Hermione leapt out of her bed, pulling on a pair of slippers, and safely gripping her wand in her right hand, "What's going on?" Behind Arthur Weasley stood her two best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, as well as the rest of the Weasley boys; Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George, the three oldest had their wands drawn and looked to be on edge.

"Some kind of riot," Arthur breathed heavily, peeking out of the flap, "Severus is going to meet you all in the forest, and then get you out of here. Bill, Charlie, Percy and I are going to help." Hermione and Ginny rushed over to Harry, Ron, Fred and George, and nodded. "Is it death eaters?" Her mouth was dry with nerves as she asked; already knowing the answer to come. If it wasn't death eaters, her father would have come to apparate them away right from the tent.

"That's not important right now; just get going you lot." The five of them were ushered out of the tent without another word, and into pandemonium. Tents were on fire and trampled, witches and wizards were running in every direction, some were apparating away; some were calling out for friends or family, but most, most were heading into the forest. Towards the center of the large campsite, Hermione could see a group of wizards with cloaks as black as death, and above them, floating miserably in the air, emitting shrieks she could hear even with the distance between them, was four floating bodies.

"Come on, Hermione!" Harry's voice cut through her shock, and the Gryffindor witch allowed herself to be pulled into the forest, where they broke into a sprint, heading as deep as they could go. They ran for several minutes, groups of witches and wizards passing in a blur, before Harry tripped over a tree root, tumbling to the ground, with Hermione and Ron right behind him.

Hermione was the first to find her way back to her feet, and her hand gripped her wand tightly as she realized that the three of them were completely alone. "Hey, my – my wand, it's gone!" Harry's panicked voice caused dread to fill his two friends as they turned to face the boy as he clamoured to his feet, patting down his pockets. Ron scrambled to his feet and pulled out his own wand, "What do you mean it's gone? Did you drop it?"

Harry spun to stare down his red haired friend and scowled, "I must have… but I don't see it on the ground, hell, I can hardly see anything. It's pitch black."

"_Lumos_." Hermione let out a sigh as light began to flicker from the end of her wand; she would probably get in trouble for using magic, but this seemed like a pretty reasonable exception to the law. There was a death eater riot going on after all, and they were now lost in the forest.

Harry and Ron blinked at the brightness of the light for a moment before turning their attention to the ground, "Thanks, 'mione," Harry said gratefully as his eyes raked over the forest floor. "I still don't see it – must have dropped it a ways back," anything else that Harry might have said, was drowned out by the sudden appearance of a house-elf about twenty feet away from where they were standing; looking as though she was trying to run, but unable to.

"That's Winky, isn't it? The elf from the top box?" Ron asked quietly, as their eyes all remained locked on the struggling elf, "Looks like she's having trouble running."

Hermione snorted and turned away from the sight, "Poor thing was probably ordered not to leave the tent and is trying to escape being trampled."

She swept the surrounding area with a frown, "I wonder where my dad is, your dad wasn't really very specific about where we were meeting him, Ron." In their rush to escape the path of the mob of death eaters, she hadn't bothered to think about where in the forest her father would be waiting, and now she was worried. This forest was large, dark, and full of danger; and they had no way of contacting her father.

Harry and Ron merely shrugged, "We have no idea, really. Don't you have some way to contact him?" Ron asked with a shrug, earning a sigh from the Gryffindor girl, "Oh yes, Ron, I can magically contact my father. Seeing as I'm old enough to create and use spells outside of school."

"Techy," Ron muttered under his breath, not noticing how Harry had suddenly stiffened, until the dark haired boy began motioning for his friends to be quiet. He had heard something; a strange voice. They fell into silence, tensely waiting as Harry tried to pinpoint where the voice had come from; until the voice returned, shouting out a spell that none of the three had ever heard before, "_Morsmordre!_"

There was a blinding flash of green light that erupted from behind the bushes and trees that Winky had run into, and Hermione fell to the ground, clutching her left arm, jaw clenched shut tight from pain. "What's – oh that's not good," Ron croaked as his eyes drifted upwards and caught sight of the shape twisting in the sky; the skull and serpent mark of Voldemort.

Gathering her strength, Hermione pushed herself back to her feet and grabbed both of the boys by the arm, "Move, we have to move!" Harry resisted, staring in shock at the glittering, twisting shape, while screams erupted from the forest. "What's the matter?" Harry gaped, dropping his gaze to rest on his panicking friends. Their faces were white with fear.

"It's the dark mark Harry," Hermione moaned, trying to pull Harry's arm once more, only to feel the pain in her own arm flare up again. Before she could get him to stumble more than a few steps, the air around them filled with the soft popping sound that accompanied apparition, and they were surrounded by roughly twenty wizards.

"Duck!" Harry shouted as the wands of the wizards around them were raised, and he pulled Hermione and Ron to the ground as the reverberating shout of "_Stupefy!_" and the blinding flashes which accompanied it, filled the clearing they were in. The spells shot off into the darkness of the forest, bouncing off trees, and disappearing into the night.

"STOP!" Hermione, though dazed from the pain spreading through her left arm, recognized the new voice, and she raised her head enough to make out the quickly approaching figures. "Stop! That's my son!" Arthur was in front of them in a flash, his face pasty white, and eyes wide with fear. "Ron, Harry – Hermione, are you alright?" Hermione groaned and tried to answer, but was cut off by Mr. Crouch, whom looked hell bent on attacking the three teenagers.

"Out of the way, Arthur! Which of you did it?" Harry was pulled to his feet by the irate ministry official, and subsequently blamed for the mark in the sky. "It wasn't us," Harry replied stubbornly, gesturing to the sky, and Ron was on his feet a moment later, backing him up. "We didn't do anything!"

Hermione took advantage of their distraction and tugged on Arthur's wrist, "Where's my dad?" She whispered as the weary wizard pulled her to her feet. "With the others."

"Do not lie!" Crouch spat, taking a step back from them, while Hermione stepped up beside her friends; determined not to let on about the pain in her arm to anyone. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

A witch in a woolen dressing gown stepped forward, "Barty – they're just kids, they'd never have been able to –" Mr. Weasley cut her off quickly, "Where did the mark come from, you three?"

Hermione pointed to the bushes they had heard the voice from, "Over there," her voice shook, more from pain than shock, but no one seemed to think it out of place, "there was someone behind the trees…they shouted words, an incantation –"

"Oh, stood over there did they?" Crouch spun his wild eyes on Hermione and she trembled under the accusatory glare. "Said and incantation did they? You seem very well informed about how the mark is summoned, missy." The other twenty-odd ministry wizards were silent, watching Crouch with disbelief, they obviously didn't believe that Harry, Ron and Hermione would be capable of summoning the mark.

They had all raised their wands once more, this time pointing them where Hermione had pointed to, "We're too late," the witch from earlier said, "they'll have disapparated by now." "I don't think so," a stubby wizard with a brown beard said as he nodded his head towards the trees, "Our stunners went right through there."

Five minutes later, Crouch was fuming over his house elf's stunned body, and Harry was watching with horror as a ministry wizard held Harry's wand as evidence. It took another ten minutes for Arthur to convince the ministry official to give Harry back his wand, and another ten minutes after that before they were given permission to leave.

Once they were out of sight and hearing range, Hermione stopped moving forward and cleared her throat, "I need to talk to my dad – it's important." She was afforded three blank stares, as she was gripping her arm tightly again; the pain was gone, but her skin tingled uncomfortably. "Why're you holding your arm like that? Come to think of it –" Ron was cut off by a fierce glare from the brunette and a quick jab to the ribs from Harry.

"He should be waiting at the tents with the others." The rest of the short walk was made in relative silence, and Hermione was the first to rush forward upon leaving the forest and spotting the tents. Fred, George and Ginny greeted them.

"Is my dad still here?" Hermione asked, craning her neck to look past the twins, trying to see if perhaps there was someone behind them; but there wasn't. "No, he just left," Ginny replied, placing a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder as Harry and Ron came over, while Arthur was occupied with the twins. "I want to know what happened back there," Harry whispered, making Hermione wince and nod, "Not here. When we get back to the Burrow."

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><p>Hermione was pacing around Ron's attic bedroom while both boys waited impatiently for her to explain. She wanted to tell them, but it scared her to think how they might react. It's completely true that she was marked against her will, but that didn't matter to a lot of wizards – would the boys understand?<p>

"Look, just tell us Hermione. It'll come out sooner or later, whatever it is, and it's better if it's sooner." Harry was of course being the most logical, and she thought that he had a fairly good idea what the problem was.

With a deep breath for courage, she tugged up her left sleeve so that the faded mark showed to the two boys, "I probably don't have to tell you what this is – before you say anything, let me explain, okay?" The two boys were too dumbfounded to even make a sound, a small mercy.

"You know Snape's my dad, and, my mum was a – a death eater. Well, she tried to give me the mark when I was born, but she died before the spell was complete, because Julie protected me. While I don't have a full mark," she paused to take a deep breath before continuing, "mine still burns when Voldemort is strong…kind of like your scar, Harry."

"Blimey." Ron gasped out a few minutes later, his jaw opening and closing as though he wanted to speak, but couldn't. "That's not quite what I was expecting. But I guess I understand why you didn't say anything before." Harry said quietly, rubbing at his temples with his right hand.

Ron, finally breaking out of his stupor, was a little louder, and a little angrier. "Anything _else_ you're keeping from us that we might like to know?"

"Erm…" there was one thing left she had yet to tell them, but she wasn't sure they'd _like_ knowing it. After all, they were still on very poor terms with Draco. "I'm going to have a half sibling soon," she stuttered, earning two rather disturbed faces from the boys. "Who in their right mind would shag _Snape_?" Ron spat, looking as though he had just been force-fed troll bogeys.

"For your information, Ron, Julie has been dating my dad for well over a year and a half now!"

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><p>End chapter nine!<p>

It's awful short, and possibly plain awful, but it's up! I'm sorry about the wait, I didn't mean to break my promise. I admit, I've been caught up a little bit with scribbling out some legend of zelda and gundam wing/AC one shots...which haven't been posted (but probably will be).

If this chapter is exceedingly bad, I apologize, because I'm still just a bit fuzzy and achy from a minor 'surgery' yesterday. Fyi, Camera's down your throat sucks big time. My throat is killing me.

I'll try to be better about posting updates.

Ta-ta for now!


	10. A Mystery Fit For An Only Child?

A Girl Named Hermione Granger: Year Four

Chapter Ten: A Mystery Fit For An Only Child?

Disclaimer: I don't own...and I bet you're all pretty pissed at the wait by now.

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><p>The platform was trilling with more noise than Hermione could be bothered to attempt to identify. Harry and Ron were standing on either side of her, looking nearly as morose as she felt.<p>

"I can't believe it's time to go back already," she muttered under her breath, blankly allowing her eyes to fall on her school trunk and Archie's cage. The summer had seemed to last forever, and the last few days themselves had seemed like a month all on their own.

"Yeah, let's go find a compartment before they're all full. Otherwise we won't be able to talk." Harry was the first to push his trolley of school items forward, and his movements jarred Hermione and Ron from the depths of their thoughts to follow.

Once they were seated, belongings stowed away above them, Hermione pulled two papers out of her purse and spread them on the seat beside herself. One was a regular muggle newspaper, from Spinner's End, and the other was a two-day old copy of the daily profit.

"Mysterious disappearance," she licked her dry lips as they let their eyes fall to the muggle paper, "At twelve oh-five am, police were called to number 16 Spinner's End, after a small explosion rocked the neighbourhood. The house in question was demolished by – a gas leak, that's what father made them believe – and the sole occupant of the home was found to be missing."

This had been the night of the riot at the cup.

Harry and Ron sat, tense, on the bench seat across from the distraught dark-eyed girl. The news of this incident had been waiting for them when they had returned to the Burrow, and Hermione had been inconsolable since.

"This is why he wasn't there to meet us, he was dealing with the police all night." Hermione switched her gaze to the daily profit and scowled, "And there's not a word about it in the Profit, of course. Julie was in hiding from the magical community, practically no one knows who she is or where she was. But father's quite certain she was taken."

"What are the odds it could have been a muggle criminal?" Harry asked, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

"Not likely. Father charmed the house quite well. Despite how he seems," she shot a knowing look at the boys, whom seemed to disagree with her, "he was sort of looking forward to the baby." It would have been his real chance to be a father – a fresh start with a fresh child that would not harbour even the slightest dislike for its father. She wished she could have proven enough to keep her father's interest, but she knew that there would always be a gaping space between them.

"I'd put my money on the death eaters, but I wouldn't rule out inside involvement," Ron muttered, earning a sharp glare from the dark eyed girl. "Don't be ridiculous, Ron, the only inside people are the same ones trusted with my existence. And I'm still here, aren't I?" Never mind the fact that several attempts had been made on her life, and her secret was already known to the very person it was meant to have been hidden from.

"I'm just saying," the red head persisted, "Your _family_ is tight with some of the worst of you-know-who's followers."

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><p>The great hall echoed with the booming thunder storm, and the excited rumbling of the students as they relaxed at their house tables.<p>

The feast had been just as extravagant as ever, or so Hermione surmised, watching Harry and Ron eat through at least three helpings while her stomach threatened to revolt. She hadn't felt up to eating most meals since the world cup; her fear and worry for her older sister had seen to that quite thoroughly.

"Quite down, now, if I may, I have a few announcements to make." Dumbledore's voice effectively silenced the chatter, though the thunder boomed on merrily from the enchanted ceiling.

"Thank you; first, I would like to –" The double doors of the great hall clattered open, cutting off whatever the headmaster had intended to say. Every set of eyes in the room turned to fall upon the grizzly man, drenched to the bone from the rain, with a gnarled, wooden foot poking out the bottom of his shaggy black cloak.

It was nigh impossible to try and decipher the age of the man, as he began to limp forward with a steady _thump_ echoing every time his wooden foot connected with the stone flooring. His face was a mess of scars, a small chunk of the tip of his nose missing, and his scraggly hair plastered over his forehead and shoulders. As he passed by the seat Hermione had taken, she found her gaze drawn to his left eye – it was electric blue, and whizzing around in its socket, until it landed on her and stayed a moment before moving onto Harry.

A shudder ran down her spine as the grizzly man finally reached the podium, where Dumbledore still stood, with a smile adorning his old lips. "Ah, Professor Moody, I was wondering where you had gotten off to." Murmurs broke out among the students immediately.

"That's Mad-eye Moody, the one dad rushed off to see this morning." Ron whispered excitedly, earning two curious looks from his friends, "Who?" Harry asked, cocking his head to the side as Ron stared back expectantly, before his face fell with disappointment. "You know, _Mad-eye_ Moody, _ex-auror_, possibly _the_ most crazy man who _ever_ lived to kick ass!" There was a pause before Ron sighed and hung his head. "Oi, don't you two know _anything _at all? Mad-eye is dead famous. He's the one who post of those death eaters in Azkaban."

Understanding dawned upon Harry and Hermione – this was common wizard knowledge among the purebloods, and half-bloods; and though they were each technically half-bloods themselves, they had been raised fully by muggles. Where Ron idolized Mad-eye, they knew Sherlock Holmes.

"Harry and I were raised by muggles, Ron. We don't know every single person of note – don't you laugh, even I don't know everything." Hermione glowered at Ron as he fought to contain his enjoyment over the fact that he, for once, knew something that she didn't – that turned out to be important.

"Settle down, now, may I introduce your new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Professor Alastor Moody. He has kindly come out of retirement for the year, in order to take up the teaching post."

The silence that followed Dumbledore's introduction was broken only by a soft rumble of thunder.

"I have one more announcement to make," a glimmer of amusement flickered across the old wizards face as his lips turned up further at the corners, "this year, there will be no Quidditch cup –"

A cry of outrage echoed from each of the four tables, particularly from those students on their house teams. All protests were cut short as Dumbledore raised his hands for silence once more.

"There will be no Quidditch because Hogwarts will be playing host to the Tri Wizard Tournament. In October, we will be having guests from other wizarding school arrive, and a champion from each school will compete in three dangerous tasks for the glorious title of Tri-Wizard Champion, and a thousand Galleons in prize money."

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><p>Hermione froze as she reached the doors of the great hall, "I need to have a word with our Professor, you guys go on ahead." The great hall was nearly empty at this point, and neither Harry nor Ron was feeling in the mood to protest with her strange request, so they bid Hermione good night and followed the last of the straggling students towards the Gryffindor tower.<p>

A few minutes later, her father and McGonagall made their way to where the fourteen year old was waiting, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "I need to speak with you, Professor," She gave her father an innocent, yet pointed look as she spoke, and received no acknowledgement for her effort, as he strode past her out the doors without even casting a glance back at her.

"Come to my office, miss Granger," McGonagall sighed, placing her hand on the girl's shoulder as they left the great hall.

The corridor was eerily silent, and darker than usual as the stormy clouds blocked the moons light from illuminating the stone walls and floor. "Do you know about what happened?" Hermione ventured to ask as she climbed a wide staircase beside her head of house.

A tired sigh was her reply. "I do, as a matter of fact. But we will discuss this in my office."

A cheery fire and plate of tea and biscuits was already waiting for them when they stepped into McGonagall's office. Hermione kept her silence as she was seated and the door was shut and secured, and a cup of warm, soothing tea was placed in her hands.

The middle-aged Transfiguration Professor stirred her own tea for a moment, lost in thought, before she turned her attention to Hermione. "I have heard about your sister's disappearance, both from your father and Albus." She placed her tea down gently after taking a sip.

"At this point, not much is known. In fact, had your father not been intending to leave his own home, we might not have discovered Julie's absence until at least the next day. The house was destroyed, and our only clue was this," McGonagall picked up a photograph from her desk and handed it over to Hermione.

"That's his mark," Hermione whimpered, eyes roving over the mark burnt into the wall of the main sitting room. "She's dead, isn't she?"

Minerva winced at the bold question and placed her elbows on the desk to rest her face in her hands. "There is no way of knowing. All we can do is hope that whatever the reason they took her for, they need her to be alive to execute. Dumbledore has several people scouring around for any sign of Julie."

Hermione dropped the picture on a stack of parchment and allowed herself to slump back in her chair. "Father must be quite upset, he was looking forward to having the baby." As much as she loathed to admit, if only to herself, Hermione felt a horrific little twinge of relief bubbling up in the darkest corner of her mind – she would have no sibling, no contest for her father's love. Though she would rather that there had been no suffering over the matter. She loved Julie dearly, and to no longer have her around would kill her surely.

"He is. You'll have to do your best to be there for him in the coming months. Severus has always been surprisingly delicate, when it came down to matters of family. When his mother died, he was a wreck, not to mention how devastated he had already been by Lily's death."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat; she knew precious little about her father's younger days, and even less about his friendship with Harry's mother, though she had her doubts if Julie – or even herself – matched to the level of attachment he'd felt towards his childhood friend.

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><p>Breakfast was a noisy affair the next morning, not that Hermione was surprised. There was still a lot of excitement surrounding the late entrance of Professor Moody, and of the announcement Dumbledore had made. Even she had to admit – the glory – it was like an unattainable dream. And oh, how she wanted to attain it. It would be a distraction, from the facts she did not want to face.<p>

When Harry and Ron sat opposite her, piling their plates with bacon and eggs, she squashed everything down as far as it would go. "You never came back to the dorms, did you 'mione?" Harry asked between helpings of hash browns, peering across the table at the would-be-Slytherin girl.

"I did, I just had an extended talk with Professor McGonagall," She didn't dare utter much more than that, for fear of slipping out something that ought not to be said. For the most part, the boys didn't respond, though whether out of respect for privacy, or their mouthfuls of bacon, she couldn't say.

By the time they had retrieved their timetables and discovered that they would now have to run from the great hall to Gryffindor tower, and then back out to the green houses, Hermione found herself wishing for her time-turner. She hadn't slept well, after talking to McGonagall. Her head had been filled with nightmares and visions of the future – too dark for her to want to believe.

"Damn, we'll be late for sure." Ron practically cheered, as the trio followed the spattering of student returning to the tower for their books. "Oh, I doubt that Ron. Professor Sprout will likely postpone starting for five minutes, at least. Everyone has to fetch their books, you know."

Ron shot her a furtive look of distaste, "I know that, can't a bloke dream though?" He grouched, slumping ahead a few paces to block her from giving any reply.

"Watch it you two, it's far too early to bicker. I don't want a headache before double Divination this afternoon." Harry said in an attempt to end the feud before it could start, only to earn a snort of laughter from Hermione.

"You should have dropped it, like me. What a rubbish class – Arithmancy is much more fascinating. It's like my advanced Arithmetic classes from primary, only less about numbers, and more about their powers. You'd probably do quite well in it, Harry. You're familiar with Arithmetic, aren't you?"

The dark haired boy turned to her with a look of horror etched on his face, echoed by Ron whom had stopped pouting long enough to be horrified, and she burst into a fit of giggles at the sight. Of course she'd added that last bit to try and get a reaction from them. And boy had it been worth it.

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><p>Hello all…. Try not to be too upset about the terrible wait; I've actually had a job for the past couple weeks – though it was just temporary.<p>

Anywho, prepare for the weird shit, yeah? I haven't really cracked open the fourth book too much as I've been writing, and things aren't going to be quite so straight forward.

Also, I have a comment addressed to my last (or one of the last,) reviewer; Don't worry, I know exactly where you're coming from. It was a weird twist for me too, and I hadn't actually intended for it to go so far. It's about to be cleared though. This is an idea I'd toyed with for a bit, I was wondering how to settle the details for it, but a rather wicked idea has come to me. It'll dismantle a little of the preconceived story from the books, but thankfully shouldn't do too much to my previous chapters, seeing as things focus more on Hermione.

No, what I've done has not been designed just to appease a reviewer, so nobody get too mixed up about it. The base of this idea was always going to happen. It just wasn't going to be quite so dark; but that can't be helped. The whole universe was going to tilt no matter what, and I actually wish this idea had come to me sooner, because then the buildup would have had you all raving and ranting, waiting on baited breath. I'll just have to make do, though.

And, for anyone who slightly cares, I got slipped a clean bill of health – well, basically. And even though I'm still sick – I'm nowhere near as sick as I was to be so incapacitated for so long again.


	11. Gift Chapter: Julie

A Girl Named Hermione Granger: Year Four

Gift Chapter: Julie

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter and left fans waiting like this for the real books, I'd probably have been killed by now.

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><p>The street outside was quiet, as Julie sipped at her steaming mug of tea. Her hand shook slightly as she set it back on the table, and her gaze drifted to the window; Severus had just left her home in a panic, muttering about a riot. Naturally, she was worried about poor Hermione – the riot was at the world cup.<p>

If she could have, Julie would have been out the door right after him, but her protruding belly had put an end to that silly notion before it had even really formed. Not only would she only slow down the search and rescue, but she would put both herself and the baby at risk, and that would be inexcusable. No, she was much better off staying here, in her kitchen, with a cup of tea. Even if sitting idly was driving her mad.

A dull chime echoed out from the grandfather clock in her living room, informing her in its solemn way that it was half past twelve. The mother-to-be slowly got to her feet, she needed to do something, anything to take her mind off the frightful thoughts swimming through her mind. She settled herself in front of her television – one of the few muggle conveniences she'd seen fit to keep; no more than five minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

"Who in the bloody hell –" Her eyes flickered to where her wand lay resting on the coffee table, "would be calling at _this_ hour?" She shook her head ruefully and stood, she was being silly to entertain the idea of picking up her wand. She did, after all, live in a muggle town, and the odds were far more likely that it was a neighbour at her door, needing assistance. Not every unexpected visitor was out to do evil. Bypassing her wand, she shuffled slowly over to her door and drew her robe tightly around her body. She reached out to undo the lock, but never reached it as the door burst open with a blinding flash of lights.

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><p>A crackling fire and a soft, gentle hissing sound were what Julie awoke to. As her eyes slid open slowly, she took in the dank room around her and became acutely aware of the robes binding her wrists and ankles. She was most certainly not at home anymore.<p>

A soundless whimper escaped her as she fought the urge to shift and alert whomever had taken her to the fact that she was now awake. '_Just stay calm, and don't do anything stupid._' She commanded herself silently, as she attempted to get a decent view of the room in which she was being held without moving.

The room, and everything in it, was covered in a thick layer of dust and grime; it was obvious that this building had suffered from many years of neglect. The fire cast ominous shadows about the room, the largest of which, came from a tall backed chair, with clawed wooden feet. Her cursory glance of the room revealed that she seemed to be alone, but the hair on the back of her neck prickled and her gut told her that she wasn't as alone as she thought.

With horror she watched a great big snake slither down over the arm of the chair, stopping to glance at her before slithering out of the room, into the pitch black hallway. She could feel dread building in her gut, as she slowly pieced together just who had taken her, and where she must be. Not that she had really doubted that it had been death eaters.

Footsteps, muffled by layers of dust and carpets, slowly grew in volume as she tried to force herself into a sitting position – if that snake belonged to who she thought it did, then there would be no point in pretending to be asleep. She had only just managed to get her legs folded under her when the door to the dank room opened wide, revealing a short, fat little wizard carrying a bundle swathed in dirty rags, with the snake hissing at his heels.

The worst shock, she supposed, was the fact that she knew the stubby wizard before her. She'd thought him dead a long time, and she'd hesitated to believe Hermione when she'd heard the tale of what happened in June, but there was no mistaking his beady little eyes, and missing finger. "Peter Pettigrew." She wasn't aware she'd spoken aloud until she heard the wheezy laugh emanating from the bundle in his arms.

"Look, Wormtail, the mudblood remembers you." The raspy voice and wheezing breaths did not prepare Julie for what she saw when the rags shifted in Wormtail's arms, and fell away from what they had been protecting. The gnarled, deformed little limbs of a small, decaying body were curled up against a sickeningly thin little body with graying skin, and a seemingly too large head was twisted to face her with dark, sunken eyes.

She was too scared to scream.

"Yes, master." The stubby wizard sounded as though he were trying to hold his breath as he spoke, not wanting to inhale the smell of decay. "Place me on the chair and bring her by the fire so we might discuss a few things." The huddled form shifted slightly as Wormtail drew the rags around it once more to give it warmth, and he placed it carefully on the tall backed chair facing the fireplace.

Julie tried to shift away as Wormtail waddled over to her and grabbed her arms with his grubby hands, but she was feeling dreadfully weak with fear, and could make no protests as he dragged her roughly to the front of the chair, where the snake had taken a curled position on the rug.

She dropped her eyes to the floor, not wanting to see the half dead body on the chair, feeling her stomach try to crawl out of her throat. She didn't yet know why she was here, or what exactly they wanted from her, but she knew it could not be good. Her chances of escaping would probably have been not too bad, if she had her wand and wasn't pregnant – but as it was, she was pregnant and wand-less, there would be no escape.

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><p>End Gift Chapter<p>

It's almost painful to give such plot away...but it's only two pages and I cut off just before the best part, so it's less painful.

I decided to post this little snippet because, well, you have all been amazing patient with me - no screaming flames or insults, no emotional blackmail. Such fantastic readers you all are :)

So this is a thank-you. Although Julie isn't a favourite character, it's not something I had planned to post for a few more chapters. Plus it's some more of my straying-from-the-novels path. (which is going to happen a lot more...)

Real chapter eleven will be posted tonight too, in a few hours.


	12. Curses all around

A Girl Named Hermione Granger: Year Four

Chapter Eleven: Curses all around

Disclaimer: I wish

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><p>The first day, it seemed, would forever be cursed as long as Hermione tried to have both sets of friends. And, unfortunately, this time she could only blame Draco for the encounter.<p>

The blonde boy was, and had always been, a little more jealous of Harry's unbidden fame than most other students. And with the announcement the night before about the Tri-Wizard tournament, his jealousy had peaked.

This was the reason Hermione found herself standing in the middle of the two boys, each with their wands raised, trying to play peacekeeper.

"Bet you just can't wait to show us all up again, eh Potter?" Draco sneered, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him and simultaneously throwing half-apologetic glances at Hermione.

"Shut up Malfoy, I never –" Harry's retort was cut off with a snide bark of laughter, "That's rubbish, Potter. Every damned year, you swoop down and steal glory from the people who actually deserve it."

Ron was standing less than a foot behind Harry, glaring daggers at the Slytherin's in the shade of the tree; alternately throwing dirty looks towards Hermione for standing between them with her own wand gripped loosely. "Harry, c'mon, he's not worth acknowledging."

The air grew tense, and for a moment, Hermione was actually worried that her presence wouldn't be enough to stop a duel between the two boys. She shuddered to imagine just what this confrontation would look like if Harry and Ron were aware of her relationship with Draco – no doubt there would already have been curses flying about.

"'Mione, why do you even hang out with these two losers?" Draco's slate coloured eyes narrowed on her, and the brunette groaned under her breath in exasperation. "I'm a Gryffindor, they're my friends, and then there is the fact of my _secret._" She hissed the last few words under her breath to be sure that no one standing much further away than a few feet could have possibly heard her.

The reply that she received for her effort was a derisive snort as Draco crossed his arms over his chest. "It's hardly secret anymore; everyone knows – at least everyone who wasn't supposed to."

Hermione opened her mouth the reply, but was cut off by Ron's snarl, "Well we have you Slytherin's to thank for that, don't we? If it weren't for you lot, _no one_ would know."

"Ronald!" Hermione threw her arms down and turned to glare sharply at the red head, "Don't you blame it on them – the fault of it being made known lies with a _Gryffindor_, in case you've forgotten."

She knew he hadn't necessarily forgotten, so much as pushed the fact to the back of his mind, as Harry had done.

She received matching dirty looks from the two Gryffindor boys for her retort, "Wouldn't have been, if daddy-dearest hadn't shown up. In fact, a lot of things would have gone much better if the slime ball hadn't made an appearance." Ron goaded triumphantly, while Harry nodded almost viciously in agreement. "That's right," Harry huffed, "If Snape hadn't shown up, Pettigrew wouldn't have gotten away, and Sirius' name would have been cleared!"

At this point, Draco found himself a little lost in the direction that the conversation had taken. He'd gleaned very little information about what had actually happened in the Shrieking shack last June, and up until this moment, he had assumed the other boys to have been placing the blame on his conversation with his uncle just before summer that had left most of the Slytherin first years to be privy to the secret. Apparently he was wrong – but that was unimportant now.

It was quite easy to see that Hermione was quickly becoming distressed by the conversational topic, and not just because the babbling buffoons were near shouting her secret to the entire courtyard. It was time for him to step up and ease some of the strain off her before his _girlfriend_ (calling her that in his mind left him feeling completely giddy,) decided to duel the idiots herself – she would actually manage to do some serious damage if she was allowed to get carried away.

"Oi, Potty and Weasel, I believe we were in the middle of something – did you decide to pick on the girl so you might win, because I think you'll lose pretty damn –" Draco leapt back as Harry and Ron tried push their way past Hermione to get at him, and he raised his wand quickly, "Shut up Malfoy!" Harry hissed, Hermione's arm wrapped firmly around his middle, blocking him from moving any further forward.

"Please can we just go inside?" Hermione pleaded, using all the strength she had to force Harry and Ron back until they were almost a foot in front of her, before she turned to give her blonde would-be-boyfriend a look that clearly stated she was not amused by his taunting.

"Fine, it stinks out here anyway." Ron grunted, as he and Harry turned on their heels and made to head back into the castle, leaving a relieve Hermione to gather her wits. "You just couldn't resist, could you?" Hermione moaned, turning to face Draco. She gaped as she realized he had raised his wand, poised to throw a curse at Harry's retreating back, but before she could anything, he was replaced with a small, squirming ferret.

"What the!" She squeaked as the ferret flew into the air, and a gruff, angry voice growled from behind her. "Try an' attack someone who's got his back turned, eh boy?" Wide, dark eyes turned to see Professor Moody with his wand raised and his gnarled face twisted with rage – and an almost sick glee at having a student at his mercy.

"Dishonorable brat! How'd you like it, eh?" The bouncing, terrified, albino ferret emitted a series of squeaks and Hermione gaped in horror at the gleeful look on the Professors face.

The ferret was tossed in the air, flipped, and twirled and tossed at Crabbe, who fumbled to catch Draco before he was whisked away again, like a puppet on invisible strings. The terrified squeaking never stopped.

"Stop it! Stop it, right now! Professor!" Hermione grabbed hold of Moody's sleeve and tugged as hard as she could, trying to break his concentration; but she was awarded only a sneer, and then ignored. It was with no small amount of relief that the distraught girl saw Professor McGonagall approaching at a light jog, looking aghast. "_Professor Moody_, what _are_ you doing?"

Moody turned his head slightly and smirked, "Teaching," her eyes fell on the poor ferret, still twisting madly in the air, and her jaw dropped open slightly, "Is that – is that a _student_?"

Sensing his fun was over, Moody allowed the ferret to hit the grass, where it hurriedly wove its way behind Hermione to hide. "I caught him trying to curse Potter when his back was turned." Minerva spun around and glared at the ex-auror vehemently, "regardless, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore has informed you that we never, _never_ use transfiguration to punish students!" She flicked her wand at the shaking ferret, and within a matter of seconds, Draco was standing behind Hermione, in complete disarray.

"He might have said somethin' about that. But the boy won't be making that mistake again, now will he?"

Hermione tuned out the rest of the exchange between the adults as McGonagall and Moody disappeared inside the castle, and turned to face the blonde still hiding behind her. He was trying to pretend like he was not shaken by what had just happened, but it was clear he was failing.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you!?" She growled, prodding him hard in the chest, forcing him to stumble back until he collided with Crabbe and Goyle. "Raising your wand against someone who's turned his back? Is that really how Slytherin's act? What dishonour!" She jabbed his chest again and he swallowed nervously at the rage burning in her eyes.

"I – I wasn't actually _going_ to do it!" He forced the stutter out of his voice, although he had to admit, Hermione was almost as frightening – if not more – than her father when she lost her temper. "And anyway, I just got turned into a bloody ferret! I could have broken something!" He swept his eyes down over his body as he spoke, checking that he was indeed fine. "A little sympathy for that would be nice, from my –" Hermione quickly slapped her hand over Draco's mouth before he could utter the next word.

"I wouldn't say such things, if I were you." She hissed under her breath, letting her eyes flick over to where Harry and Ron were standing, mouths agape, and nearly bursting with laughter. Draco followed her gaze and scowled as he pulled her hand from his face. "Oh, I see. Whatever; I have better things to do than sully my hands with you Gryffindor's any longer."

With a snap of his fingers, Draco left the courtyard with Crabbe and Goyle on his heel, each looking back at Hermione briefly in confusion, before disappearing inside the castle.

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><p>Hermione couldn't help feeling despondent by Thursday. Her week had been uneventful, aside from Potions; wherein poor Neville had melted another cauldron (his sixth in three years,) and her father had handed out a rather nasty detention for it. Of course, this was just cause for rumors to fly about the school, defending Neville by saying Snape was on edge because of the ex-auror now breathing down his neck.<p>

She knew it wasn't exactly secret that her father had once been a death eater, but she wished the boys would stop helping the spread of the rumors. Her father was in a foul mood because Julie was still missing, and every day added to her absence was another percentage added to the likeliness that she was dead. With optimism, exceeding her usual pretence, Hermione willed herself to believe that Moody's presence in the school was neither here nor there to her father – he was completely reformed after all, and hadn't done anything illegal in years.

She was also used to having a significant amount more of homework, after her adventure the year before; Harry and Ron were, of course, already behind on their essays. She supposed she could occupy her time by writing up essays like she imagined they would, and then burning them in the common room fireplace. Or maybe she'd have to join a club. She didn't want the boys to use her for homework this year, after all.

"I'm looking forward to Moody's class. Fred and George said he was absolutely brilliant." Ron had gushed excitedly, nearly knocking over his goblet of orange juice this morning at breakfast. He had been going on and on about their new Professor since the first day, reliving the moment he said completed his total respect for the man – aka, when he turned Malfoy into a ferret.

Harry, of course, was all too eager to share in the moments as they came; although Hermione tried her best to keep as far out of things as possible. She was a bit more skeptical about the man however. Something seemed _off_ about him, in a different manor than his age and previous career could cause. He had been positively _gleeful_ as he'd bounced Malfoy the Ferret in the air.

Hermione paused in front of the door to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom as Harry and Ron rushed in to take seats near the front – this was the only class where they would do so. So far, this classroom and whichever teacher resided within, had cause her little more than trouble. Quirrell had wanted to use her against her father, Lockhart had – well, he had been creepy and overly sweet to her; and just last year, Lupin had caused a catastrophe, and snooped around her for information until her head spun. Who knew what sort of games Moody would play.

With a calming breath, she stepped through the door and sat at the desk next to Harry and Ron. By the time class was due to start, Neville had taken the seat next to hers, and the entire class was muttering amongst themselves while they waited for their Professor to show up.

It was a full five minutes past the start time when the door creaked open and Professor Moody hobbled inside with a dirty old jar in his arms. The jar contained three moderately sized spiders, which were making lazy attempts at escaping, only to be blocked by a rusted lid with several small holes jabbed into it.

As soon as Moody had set the jar down on his ornate desk at the front of the class, Hermione could see Ron shift his chair back ever so slightly, and Harry's fingers twitched before he placed his hands in his lap beneath the desk – neither boy had really recovered from meeting Aragog in their second year. She personally thought that they were being kind of pathetic over the matter, Acromantula were amazing creatures.

"You can put those books away, you won't be needing them." Moody barked, and most of the class put their books away looking quite pleased with the turn of events – Hermione, though, was a little nervous about the idea of the class being run without the book. She wasn't particularly pleased, either, when he went on to tell them that they were all very behind in their studies.

"I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with the Dark –" "You mean, you aren't staying?" Ron sounded almost heart-broken at the thought of losing his idol as a teacher at the end of the year. Moody's electric blue eye swivelled around and locked on Ron for a moment before a slow smile spread on his gnarled face. "You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Moody's eyes flashed with a strange gleam that Hermione didn't quite like, as he appraised the red haired boy in the front row. "Your father got me out of a spot of trouble the other day. Yeah, I'm just staying one year. Special favour to Dumbledore…one year, then back to my _quiet_ _retirement_." The way he emphasized 'quiet retirement' set off alarm bells in Hermione's mind. She knew the life of an auror was rough, but she didn't think too many aurors enjoyed the quiet life.

Moody gave a harsh, rumbling laugh and slapped his hand together, eyes glinting as he addressed the class once more, "So, straight into curses. They come in many varieties, and according to the Ministry, I'm supposed to teach you the counters, only." A slight frown marred his face, but it was quickly replaced with an almost sinister looking smirk. "I'm not supposed to show you what illegal dark magic looks like for two more years, but you need to know. Dumbledore has a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you lot can cope with the sight. It's my belief that the sooner you know what you're up against, the better – how do you defend yourself from something you've never known? There is no dark wizard kind enough to explain what horrible curse he's about to direct at you, if you aren't prepared, you will die."

The lesson was paused for a moment, as Moody reprimanded Lavender and Parvati, his magical eye having caught their passing of horoscopes under their desk.

"So, who can tell me which curses are most heavily punished under wizarding law?"

Hermione, although not wanting to invite his creepy eye upon herself, couldn't refuse the chance to answer the question. She was fairly surprised to see how many others had raised their hands as well, especially when she saw Ron's hand fly up almost faster than her own.

Moody pointed to the red head, "You first."

Ron cleared his throat, "My dad told me one – the Imperius curse, I think that's what it was." He was awarded with a nod from the ex-auror, "Ah yes, your dad _would_ know about that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble back in the day."

Moody had the lid off the jar, and a spider in his had before any of the class had caught onto his movement. He raised his palm high enough for the whole class to see the large black spider, and pointed his wand at it before it could run away, "_Imperio._"

The spider leapt into action as soon as the word was out of his mouth; it did swung like a pendulum in the air, tumbling into several backflips, and finally fell to desk where it did a continuous circle of cartwheels.

The students in the class laughed at the display, even Ron, although he did cringe once or twice when the spider got slightly closer to him. Hermione, too, couldn't help herself. It wasn't every day you saw a spider dance, even in the wizarding world.

"Think it's funny, do you?" Moody was the only one not laughing, as the spider continued, "You'd like it then, if I did it to you?"

The laughter died away almost instantly as the class was reminded what they were learning.

"Total control," It was whispered, with a hint of reverence. "I could make it do anything. Could make it take its own life, or the life of another." The spider curled into a ball and began rocking back and forth on the desk. "Lots of witches and wizards claimed to have been under the Impirius when the dark lord fell. It was quite a job for the Ministry, sorting the liars out from the victims."

"It can be fought, and I'll be teaching you lot how – it takes real strength of character, and CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" He barked the last two words so loud, that half the students in the class nearly fell off their chairs in surprise.

"Another curse – who knows the next one?" Moody seemed suitably pleased with himself as he placed the spider back into the jar and scooped out a new one. Neville raised his hand shakily, and stuttered, "T-the Cruciatus curse." Moody turned to face him fully, both eyes locked on to him, "Your name's Longbottom?" Neville nodded, but no further inquiry was made by the Professor.

"This needs to be a bit bigger for you to fully grasp the Cruciatus curse. _Engorgio_." The spider swelled up in size and was placed on the desk as its predecessor had been. He kept his wand fixed on the spider as the class craned their necks to get a clearer view. "_Crucio_."

The spider let out what could only ever be considered a high pitched scream of pure, immeasurable agony and suffering as it fell flat and thrashed in pain.

Hermione looked away, unable to watch the poor arachnid's suffering, and was shocked to find that Neville was shaking so hard, and had gone so pale, he was only in his chair because he was gripping the top of the desk with bone-white fingers. She could tell the practical use of the curse was the source of his distress, however a quick look to the teacher showed he had not yet noticed Neville's state. "Stop it!" She shouted suddenly, catching even herself by surprise – she hadn't meant to raise her voice – "Can't you see you're upsetting him!"

Moody instantly stopped the demonstration when he caught sight of Neville's pale face. "Right. That's the second curse, then. Nasty stuff; you don't need thumb screws or knives to torture someone if you know the Cruciatus. Anyone know the third?" The spider was replaced in the jar, and Hermione hesitantly raised her hand, the urge to answer at least one question out weighing her fear of seeing this third curse in action. "Yes, you, Granger, was it?"

"Avada Kedavra," she whispered, causing several of her classmates to glance nervously in her direction. She was quite disturbed at the tiny smile that settled on Moody's lips as he pulled out the last spider. "Yes, the last, and the worst. Avada Kadavra, the killing curse." The spider tried to frantically scuttle across the desk to freedom, but it had only made it a few inches before Moody had raised his wand once more. "_Avada Kedavra._" There was a flash of blinding green light, and the spider rolled onto its back, unmistakably dead, although there wasn't a single mark on its body.

"There's no counter for this curse, and there's only ever been one person to survive it." All eyes turned to Harry, who blushed faintly when he realized that he was now the center of attention. "It takes a powerful bit of dark magic to use that curse in particular."

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><p>End chapter eleven!<p>

This chapter is one I have been stuck on for quite a long time. I knew I needed to include Moody's first class, but I wanted to try and avoid it at the same time. Personally, the original chapter of this class in the book, is one of my favourites. It's one of those eye-opener chapters, up until this point you know there's dark magic, and you know it can kill, but you don't have an actually idea of what the spells are, or what they do. Then, this chapter comes along and knocks you for a loop, giving you something real to fear. So I couldn't cut the whole thing out.

I'm certain the next chapter will come out much faster, because it skips ahead a bit. I'm afraid there's going to be some fat cut from the book where my story is concerned, because I'm already at the length of each of the three stories prior, and they've only just gotten to the school.

Around Christmas (roughly) I will post another 'gift chapter', potentially about Julie, but maybe it'll just be some Dramione fluff.

Also, I may begin posting this series on archiveofourown . org once I finish the fourth. I noticed a few authors have jumped ship because of the 'no mature scenes' part of the policy on which I agree with the authors, personally. Some of the stories I've seen get taken down had ample warning on content, and the people who complained had obviously ignored the warnings. But that's irrelivent here. This story likely won't have any heavy scenes...And if I decide it needs one or two, they'll be posted over on the other site. But that's getting ahead of myself. My characters are only 14/15 at the moment. I wasn't planning on implementing much more until year six, hopefully. Maybe the end of year five. Proboably not though.

Anyway, toodles for now. Going to outline the next chapter.


	13. Gift Chapter: Back On Track

A Girl Named Hermione Granger: Year Four

Gift Chapter: Back On Track

Disclaimer: I suck way too much at updating to own something this awesome.

Quick note: We're skipping ahead to Halloween for the next chapter. The more I get into this day-by-day stuff, the more stuck I get wondering how to write dear ol' daddy and daughter bits. Case in point: this was your Christmas gift chapter. I know, I know, I'm so ashamed...

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><p>His office had always been a bit of a haven for him, not that he would admit it even under threat of torture. It had a perfectly sized fireplace, a nice, sturdy oak desk, and a wall of cabinets and shelves. It also had a loose stone in the floor with a perfectly sized cavity for a few bottles of fire whiskey.<p>

Currently, Severus was reclined on the small sofa adjacent to the merrily burning fire. It was a piece of furniture that was rarely used, and then mostly only ever occupied by his daughter on her rare visits. Now though, he was glad to have it, as he sipped casually from his goblet of fire whiskey.

Today, as of approximately two hours ago, was his oldest – and likely to remain only – child's birthday. He was quite certain that she thought he had forgotten, but how could he ever forget? His slim grip on sanity revolved around her existence, and he loved her more than he had any other, perhaps even more than he had loved Lilly.

Dumbledore had assured him that it was quite normal for fathers to be smitten with their daughters, and he supposed he did recall how Lilly's father had doted on her, despite being a rather cold muggle man himself. However, Severus just didn't quite know how to express this to his only child.

Julie had been their buffer, helping him to understand the way his daughter was, and bringing Hermione to realize that her father did love her. How was their relationship to survive without the vibrant muggle born witch? Would it go back to the way it was in her first year, when every encounter was strained, and she would skip classes and meals, and he would hate himself ever more?

No. He couldn't let it fall back to that.

He drained the rest of the warm, bitter liquid from his goblet and slowly made his way over the mantle. There was a small box, elegantly wrapped in green and silver, with a tiny little card tied to the ribbon. He wasn't sure whether Hermione was all that fond of rings, but this one had belonged to his mother, and had been left to him upon her passing. She was only fifteen, and probably would not need anything as heavily charmed as this ring was, but it would hopefully prove to be the gesture he needed to make to keep them in the clear.

Tucking the box into his pocket, he stepped out of his office and made his way to the owlery.

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><p>The book sat tauntingly on her four poster bed, the black leather cover and its faded silver writing were daring her to open it again, and go past the preface scribbled in by her mother. Since she had removed the book from her vault in Gringotts, she had been mulling over what to do about it.<p>

A part of her had wanted to hand it over to her father; have him check it over for dark magic. But she knew he would likely have confiscated it entirely and had it destroyed – that is, if he could even have touched it. She could quite vividly recall the shock she had received from the old photo album in the vault.

Moonlight filtered in the window to her left, barely illuminating the room at all. Just a few moments ago, the small clock next to her bed ha ticked over to midnight, officially marking the beginning of September nineteenth, her fifteenth birthday. It was weird for her, knowing she was officially a year older than her room mates, and her friends, but she had made peace with that for now.

Hesitantly she pulled the book into her lap and flipped open the cover, her eyes roaming over the looping, neat script etched into the otherwise blank page.

_Child,  
>I have written this book just for the eyes of my progeny. Any other who try to read it, shall find a lovely little hex inside the pages. Inside you will learn all the neat little perks of being a Dolohov heir that daddy-Snape has likely forbade. I wish to ensure the survival of my line, so you will learn this now that you are old enough to have been presented my diary.<em>

_ ~Katherine Dolohov_

A shiver ran up Hermione's spine as she gingerly fingered the corner of the page. She was quite certain that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with being a Dolohov, but she felt there was likely something very important in here. But would it destroy her to find out the true nature of her mother's mind? Would it change her outlook? Was she genuinely strong enough to read on?

It was those fears that kept her from turning the page. She was a clever girl, she could do more homework and reading than most of the witches in her year put together; she could brew complicated potions and had a knack for charms well beyond her level. But cleverness was not strength. Cleverness was not bravery. She wasn't like Harry and Ron, ready to charge into a potentially painful situation without a second thought. She was cautious – she had been hurt. And a great deal of that hurt was afforded her on behalf of her mother.

Not that Harry had never been hurt; she knew his life hadn't been much of a picnic either, although his parents had at least been on their side. But he was a Gryffindor through and through, brave like a lion. She was much more Slytherin, she didn't belong in the house of Godric Gryffindor, she wasn't brave.

Her heart stung as she closed the book and tucked it back under her mattress. She wasn't ready for that. Quietly, she snuck out of her bed and stepped into her slippers, drawing a fluffy dark red robe around herself for warmth, and she crept out of the dorm, down to the empty common room where the fire still burned.

She was mildly surprised, therefore, when she saw a house elf, puttering about with a duster following him to heel. "Oh, hello," She whispered as the small creature spotted her. "Miss should be sleeping," The elf squeaked, clearly upset to find a student out of bed in the middle of the night. "I'm sorry, I couldn't sleep…" The elf gave her a small smile, "Miss is like Harry Potter? Fascinated by the night?"

She couldn't help but chuckle softly, "I suppose so. Do you know Harry?" The elf's smile broadened and he bowed low enough for his nose to brush the floor, "Indeed, Miss, Dobby knows Harry Potter! Harry Potter was the one who set Dobby free!"

She was surprised by the house elf's name, but at the same time, she wasn't. She recalled How Winky had told Harry that Dobby had been having trouble finding a family that would pay him, and she knew Dumbledore was probably one of the only wizards that would agree to do such a thing.

"Dobby! I've heard about you from Harry," She was actually kind of thrilled to meet the house elf that had caused such mayhem in their second year, for both the boys and herself to a smaller extent. The short elf beamed up at her with his wide eyes, "Harry Potter speaks of Dobby? What an honour!" He tucked his duster into the waist of his pristine apron and took Hermione's hand, gently leading her to a cushy arm chair beside the fire. "Come and sit Miss, you will stay warm over here, can Dobby get anything for Harry Potter's friend?"

Despite her views on how house elves waited on wizards hand and foot, she actually felt a little bit grateful for the fussing. Her birthday wasn't starting out very well, and she hadn't spoken to her father since the night at the Burrow, Draco wasn't speaking to her either, at the moment. She had been sorely missing receiving affection. "Actually, if it's no trouble, could I have a cup of tea? It's my birthday, and I haven't been feeling very well…"

Dobby's immediate nod took her a little by surprise, "Anything Miss! Dobby will bring you tea. Do you have any requests?" It was probably considered sad that this was the nicest question she had been asked all week. "I would love some Jasmine, if you have it." Dobby gave her another large grin and bowed low, "Dobby will be right back miss!" With a muffled _crack!_ The elf vanished from the common room.

He was back moments later with a tray covered in sweets, with a small teapot and a dainty little mug. "Here you are Miss, Dobby must be returning to the kitchens now, though. Happiest of birthdays, Miss friend of Harry Potter."

Hermione plucked a cookie from the tray and nibbled at it, feeling much better about her cowardice over reading the diary of her mother. If she had decided to read the book, she would not have met Dobby, and her birthday would have continued on its miserable path.

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><p>End gift chapter two!<p>

I really wanted to do something with Severus to keep from vilanizing him, seeing as he kind of pulled a disappearing act.

Hopefully with the coming time skip, posting will be back on track. As it is, you can thank Strep throat for me posting. You remember the weirdest things when you get high fevers...Oh well.

All I can do is hope I haven't lost readers over all this time...I know how frustrating bad posting habits can be.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	14. The Goblet of Disaster

A Girl Named Hermione Granger: Year Four

Chapter Twelve: The Goblet of Disaster

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter I'm pretty sure I'd be murdered for inconsistant updating.

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><p>Things were different in the castle, as Halloween drew ever closer. There was the usual excitement for the fabulous feast, of course, and Hermione was leading that group with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.<p>

The weeks leading up had been rather odd, an omen of things to come, but the thrill of knowing that the tops students of two other wizarding schools showing up was easily enough to put the omens out of the minds of those prone to investigating them.

"Bloody brilliant." Harry and Ron were practically beaming as they strolled out of the potions dungeon exactly half an hour before the end of regular class times on Friday. Hermione, meanwhile, watched from her desk as the entire class spilled out into the hall, babbling excitedly about the evening ahead, and Dumbledore's kindness at letting the entire school out of class early.

When the class was finally empty, she slipped off her stool and made her way up to her father's desk, where he was scribbling away on an essay scroll handed in by one of his younger students – a _bright_ little first year that thought Wolfsbane was to poison werewolves. She chuckled as her father crossed out several paragraphs.

"What do you need, Hermione?" Severus asked with a sigh, trying to resist the urge to tear the essay in his hands to shreds. "I wanted to talk to you, before we have to go to dinner. About Professor Moody." Severus dropped the scroll and looked up sharply, wary of having this particular conversation. "What about Professor Moody do you wish to discuss?"

Hermione checked over her shoulder before leaning in just a little closer so she could drop her voice, "He's been acting really odd in class. Did you know he used the imperious on us?" This had been bugging her for the last week, it seemed impossible to her that Dumbledore had _actually_ been aware of _that_ particular lesson plan.

Severus flinched slightly, but feigned disinterest, "I trust you passed _that_ class with flying colours." He hadn't been pleased when he'd been told by Dumbledore that this had been included in the lesson plan, but despite his own shortcomings with the idea, he could understand the necessity. Even if it had been strictly for _Harry Potter's_ benefit.

Hermione gaped at her father for a moment before colouring with anger. "Is that all you can say about it?" She was blown away; her overly protective father didn't even seem to care that the 'lesson' had occurred. It was like he felt it was normal – maybe even beneficial – that fourteen and fifteen year olds had been subjected to one of_ the _most evil curses.

With great effort he kept himself from wavering under his daughter's glare, offering no more than a raised eyebrow, and a slightly snide "I expect you to keep top grades in Professor Moody's class – and all the rest as well. No more picking and choosing when to attend like a child." He couldn't of course mention his concerns on the matter, although he was left with a sour feeling in his gut as Hermione spun on her heels and stormed out of the classroom without a backwards glance at him.

Groaning, Severus leaned over his desk, elbows propped on the smooth surface and his hands covered his face. He felt haggard and tired, and quite frankly disgusted with himself. Up until this year, he had disclosed his concerns, albeit not entirely, to his daughter, and not pushed her for attendance or grades as she was impeccable on both accounts – forgiving the times when he caused her great upsets and she would hide out for a class here or there, always turning up with homework completed in full. He had absolute faith in her ability to keep good grades; he just couldn't afford for her to slip up this year in particular. There was too much he was afraid of.

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><p>Dinner was, by far, more rambunctious that night. Shortly after leaving her father's office, Hermione had made her way down to the front doors of the school where Harry and Ron had already gathered with their peers, to watch the arrival of both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students.<p>

Two overly showy entrances later – one involving a giant flying carriage and the other a sunken pirate ship emerging from the lake – everyone had filed into the great hall for the Halloween feast and Dumbledore gave what Hermione was sure was a lovely welcoming speech.

She couldn't be certain of course, because she hadn't really felt up to listening, still brooding slightly over the callous conversation with her father.

"Can you believe it's really Krum? I knew he was young, but I had thought he'd finished school!" Ron gushed over his heaping plate of mashed potatoes and roast beef; eyes firmly locked on the Slytherin table where the Durmstrang students had taken seats.

Harry snorted into his goblet of pumpkin juice and shook his head slightly, "Ron, calm down, I'm sure you'll get more chances to see him – he's here for the tournament after all."

The boys antics put a small smile on Hermione's lips and she sighed. She couldn't waste all her time moping about, just because her father had a snit, she should be paying attention to the upcoming tournament, and the new foreign students she could meet and befriend. Maybe.

"I do actually hope we'll get a chance to meet them, all of them." She said calmly as she reached out to fill her plate with a helping of roasted carrots and potatoes.

Shortly after the desserts were cleared from the many tables, Dumbledore stood gracefully from his chair, and made his way around the staff table to stand beside a grandeur chest.

"Now that we have all been properly fed," his voice flowed through the hall bringing it to silence, "I have a few words to share with you." He placed his left hand against the chest and spared it a glance, "In a few moments, I will open the chest and have the Goblet of Fire placed in the entrance hall. However, I must inform you all right now; no one under the age of seventeen will be permitted to submit their names into the goblet."

There was a roar of outrage among the students, and though Hermione kept her disappointment to herself, she wanted to join her classmates in their protest. Here she was, fifteen, and probably more advanced than most of the seventh years, and she had lost her chance before she even had it.

"Quiet!" Dumbledore's voice cut through the crowd and silence was once more restored to the great hall. "This new rule has been put in place to protect you. The tasks that the champions will face in this tournament are vicious and dangerous. A number of young witches and wizards have lost their lives in the past, because they were too young and under trained." His icy blue eyes flickered over to the Gryffindor table momentarily, settling particularly on Harry. "No one under the age of seventeen will be permitted to submit their name."

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><p>The common room was all abuzz with the excitement of the tournament now being underway. Each of the seventh years, and a few sixth years, had already submitted their names, including Fred and George – whom had <em>not<em> been of age, nor able to fool Dumbledore's age line with their aging potion, ad were now both in the hospital wing.

"I wish we could enter," Ron mumbled, slouched down low in a cushy arm chair near a window. "Could have been famous if I'd won – and rich."

Harry snorted as he leaned over a scroll essay that was due in a few days, "Fame isn't all that great," he grumbled. "Nor is wealth," Hermione added, not looking up from her Arithmancy book.

"Easy for you lot to say," Ron grouched, "you've never been poor like I am. You haven't had to wear hand me downs from five older brothers." He picked at the slightly frayed edge of his sleeve, sneering in distaste as a thread pulled out.

Hermione rolled her eyes behind her book, "Honestly Ron, you do recall I grew up in a muggle household with five siblings, don't you? I know exactly where you're coming from, and I'm still telling you money isn't all it's cracked up to be." She didn't have to look to know the red haired boy was glaring at her fiercely, but she wasn't expecting the balled up piece of parchment that hit her in the face.

"Hey!" She dropped her book in her lap and shot Ron a glare of her own, "Don't you throw things at me, you ass." She snapped her book shut and got to her feet as Ron merely rolled his eyes at her scolding. "I don't have to sit here and pander to your ego, you know. I'm going to work in my room, and you can forget my helping you with your potions essay!"

Harry and Ron watched her storm up the stairs to her dorm and Harry sighed. "Look, Ron, we were both just trying to make you feel better." Green eyes met scowling blue, "Don't push her away now, she needs us as much as we need her."

Ron's lips pulled back in a slight sneer, his foul mood settling in further, "Like I need a death eater for a friend." He kept his voice too low to be over heard, something for which Harry was most grateful. "Ron!" He hissed, leaning in as close as he could get, and dropping his voice, "Hermione is _not_ a death eater. And you know it."

This was a discussion they had had before, in private, after the world cup. When Hermione had showed them her arm, and explained her fit in the forest clearing. Harry, for one, believed her to have told the truth, knowing what little he did about her mother. But Ron had been uneasy ever since that night; he had, of course, grown up knowing the significance of the mark and those who bore it, and his fears and beliefs were carved too deeply to be shifted in a night.

Harry just found himself wishing the red head wasn't quite so stubborn, as he was growing weary of the two-faced behaviour.

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><p>Hermione sat perched high in the shadows on her broom, hovering over the entrance hall, just staring at the Goblet of Fire in longing. In private she had allowed herself to dream of the glory and respect that would await the winner of the tri-wizard cup. She wondered what it would be like, to walk the halls of the castle and be cheered on by her fellow students, to be looked up to instead of being looked down on.<p>

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><p>The great hall was silent as a graveyard as Dumbledore set the Goblet of Fire on the staff table, with Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman standing off to the side, and Percy standing even further back, clutching a quill and parchment eagerly awaiting orders from his boss.<p>

"It is nearly time for the names to be drawn from the Goblet," Dumbledore motioned to a door behind the staff table briefly, "I ask that once your name has been drawn, you go through this door and wait. Once all three champions have been selected, myself and the judges will brief the champions on their first instructions."

The Goblet of fire let out a soft hissing sound, and Dumbledore lowered the flickering candle light around the room as the bright blue flames flashed red. A scorched piece of parchment shot up into the air like a firework and drifted down gently.

Everyone in the room drew their breath in expectantly as the headmaster reached up and plucked the scorched parchment out of the air.

"Our first champion is from Durmstrang; Viktor Krum!"

Applause stormed through the hall as the tall, yet stocky, Bulgarian teen stood from the Slytherin table and made his way to the staff table. "No surprise there," Ron cheered, nudging both Harry and Hermione before letting out a whistle.

As the applause pattered out, the goblet flickered red once more and a second piece of parchment flew into the air.

"The champion for Beauxbatons; Fleur Delacour!"

Another round of cheers and applause tore through the great hall as the Beauxbatons delegate rose to her feet with a practice grace and practically floated past the staff table and through the door to the next chamber.

The hall fell into complete silence as the flames changed colour once again, spitting out the third and final piece of parchment that held the name of the Hogwarts champion.

"The champion for Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory!"

Hermione almost could have laughed at the look of disgust that crossed the faces of nearly everyone seated at the Gryffindor table. It certainly seemed as though no one had forgiven Cedric for winning the Quidditch match the year prior, when the Dementors had shown their faces.

It was several moments after the strapping Hufflepuff boy had vanished into the next chamber before the cheering in the hall died out completely. Dumbledore had turned to the goblet, ready to seal it up once more, when it exploded with a fourth burst of red flames – brighter and higher than before.

A badly scorched and slightly torn piece of parchment drifted down, landing on the shocked headmaster's hand.

Every pair of eyes in the room fell onto the seemingly innocent piece of paper, no one quite sure _what_ was going on.

Dumbledore shakily picked it up off the back of his outstretched hand and gazed at the name, all the colour draining from his face as he did. This could not be. It was utterly impossible. "Harry Potter."

At the Gryffindor table, Harry was speechless. He could feel the heated glare coming from his best friend, as well as most of the hall. He felt stupid, as he stood with prompting from the nearly frantic headmaster, for believing for even a minute that he could have been safe from falling into the deadly contest.

"Quickly Harry, into the next chamber." Dumbledore ushered him along as the headmasters from the other schools, Karkaroff and Madam Maxime, as well as Professor Snape and McGonagall, stood from their seats and rushed into the next chamber.

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><p>End chapter.<p>

So, I know there's no excuse for goign so long without posting, but I am working on it, I promise. This is the hard part over and done; I was having trouble building up to the names being drawn. Seing as I'm now fourteen chapters into my own story and only half way through the book. But I will be able to have another chapter out this week.

Ah, good thing I re-read this before posting - almost gave you all the wrong conversation between Hermione and Severus. Would have seemed very odd, since I make numerous references to his attitude problem and the other conversation has none. But it has been fixed. Anywho...Hope this chapter didn't suck too bad. Next chapter is going to be a bit of a time skip.

Chao.


	15. Draco and Dragons and Dangers, oh my!

A Girl Named Hermione Granger: Year Four

Chapter Thirteen: Draco and Dragons and Dangers, oh my!

Disclaimer: not mine.

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><p>Harry stumbled into the library at quarter past eleven, shaking like a leaf. He hadn't wanted to go back to the dormitories after his walk with Hagrid through the dark forest – he knew Hermione would be in here, and she was one the few people in Gryffindor still speaking to him. He still had his invisibility cloak wrapped tightly around himself, not wanting anyone in the castle to see him so shaken up. As if they needed the ammunition against him.<p>

He wandered through the stacks until he found his friend, hunched over a hidden away table, four essays spread out in front of her, and a mountain of books piled high. With what little strength he could muster, Harry pulled out the chair beside her and fell into it. "I'm dead," he croaked as she looked up, pausing in her work. She had grown used to holding conversations with him under his cloak, and it no longer startled her quite as bad when chairs near her moved and began speaking; of course the first time he had snuck up on her like that, she had hexed him on pure reflex.

Hermione sighed at the words and laid down her quill; she could tell this was probably going to require her full attention. "I seriously doubt that, Harry, you look quite alive to me, aside from being invisible." A tiny, grim smile tugged at her lips as she chuckled, "So what was it Hagrid wanted to show you? Was it something to do with the first task?"

It had been nearly a month since Halloween, when the Goblet of Fire had spit out Harry's name, and he had still heard nothing about what the first task might be, or when.

"Yeah, it did." Harry shuddered under his cloak, and folded his arms around his chest, "The first task is Dragons." He could still see the Hungarian Horntail in his mind, spouting flames and growling viciously at her handlers. He could only pray that he wouldn't have to face her, he would take any other breed of dragon, but the Horntail was a nasty beast.

Hermione felt her jaw drop and she gaped at the empty chair. "Dragons? Are you serious? Dragons!" She shot out of her chair and began pacing in the small area, "What exactly do you have to do? Do you know?"

Harry groaned and tugged the cloak away from his face just enough to catch her eye, "I have to get past it. I sincerely doubt Dumbledore would allow us to try and slay a dragon for sport." Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to kick him in the shin, though she missed as she couldn't see it, "This is not Dumbledore's contest, Harry. The ministry cares very little for magical creatures. But at least this will be much easier. You'd best head back to the common room now though; you'll be late for Sirius."

A clock near the front of the library chimed twelve midnight, and Harry stood reluctantly, "I suppose you're right. Are you coming back now?" She gestured toward her stack of homework, "I've still got lots to do, Harry. I'll see you in the morning."

Harry pulled the cloak back over his face and sighed, "Hopefully the common room is empty," whatever else Harry had been about to say died on his lips as Draco Malfoy darted into their isle, looking a little flushed.

"Hermione!" Draco drew himself up to his full height and tried to appear far more collected than he actually was. "We need to talk-" Hermione gaped, Draco hadn't spoken to her in two months. And of all times, he needed to talk _now_ when Harry was less than a foot away under his cloak. Perfect.

"I – this isn't the best time, Draco, I have a lot of work to do." She really didn't want to do this in front of Harry.

"For Merlin's sake, 'mione, would you stop walking away from me!" Hermione growled as Draco slammed his palms against the two bookshelves, blocking the only exit. They hadn't spoken a word to each other in two months, ever since the incident in the courtyard, although it wasn't for a lack of trying on his part – she had carefully avoided him, and the fight she was sure was coming.

Slate grey eyes narrowed in mild annoyance, as Hermione crossed her arms firmly over her chest, a scowl set in place on her lips. "We all know you'd rather be spending all your time with Potty and Weasel, not me, however _we_ need to talk." His voice oozed with latent bitterness.

Hermione's dark eyes rolled up as she bit back on the urge to shout at the blonde boy before her. "As a matter of fact, I would _not_ prefer to be spending all my time with Harry _and_ Ron." She had known that Draco would take exception to the fact that she had yet to inform the boys that they were together – well, sort of, seeing as they had yet to actually label it out loud with one another – but she had hoped that he might at least give her a chance to explain why she had not yet mentioned anything. Evidently, that hope was misplaced.

"I'm not letting you leave until we talk, 'mione, and if you try to get past me, I'll hex you." For emphasis, he lowered his left arm and pulled his wand out of his pocket. Reluctantly, the irritated girl dropped to the floor and sat with her legs splayed, before motioning for Draco to do the same.

Once they had settled relatively comfortably on the floor, Hermione found herself wondering where to begin. "Why haven't you told them? I know they don't particularly like me, but I thought we had an understanding…" Draco muttered, glaring at the floor as he rested his hands on his knees.

"I –" Hermione paused and let out a soft sigh, "- I haven't told them, because they're still growling about my father, and I'd like to have something nice that they can't rag on me for." She cursed herself for being unable to put it in an elegant and thought-out manner, as she had come to expect of herself over the years, but there was simply no other way to say it. She wanted to actually enjoy whatever it was that was going on between her and Draco, without Harry and Ron being on her case about the matter. And they undoubtedly would torment her over it. Although it might be enough to make Ron forget being angry with Harry over the tournament.

Draco, feeling rather rebuffed now, winced and brought his eyes up to catch her frustrated gaze. "I see." He mumbled, shifting slightly, as though debating with himself, before he shuffled over and settled right beside her, his left hand now laying so close to her right hand that their knuckles brushed. "In that case, I think you were right." He afforded her a small grin, which was returned tentatively as his hand slid over hers, and their fingers intertwined. "It's much more exciting to have a secret girlfriend, anyway."

Harry stumbled back into the common room in a daze; Hermione had been dating Draco Malfoy, for a while apparently. As he dropped into the plush chair in front of the fireplace he realized he and Ron had drifted quite far from their female friend since finding out about her father last year, and he felt a sharp stab of guilt in his gut. While he really disliked, Malfoy, the Slytherin boy was obviously important to one of his best friends, and he had probably been causing her a fair bit of grief without even realizing it.

He was withdrawn from his guilt as the clock struck one am, and the fire place sputtered, signalling the arrival of his godfather.

"Harry?" Quickly pulling off his cloak, the bespectacled boy slid to his knees in front of the grate, "I'm here, Sirius." He had been waiting eagerly for this meeting, more so he could know Sirius was actually ok, than for the advice he was hoping to get.

"Excellent, I haven't got much time, how are you, Harry?" Sirius's face was taught with tension, though he looked significantly better than Harry remembered. His question, however, brought the stress of the last month rushing back full force. Losing so many friends, the awful article Rita Skeeter had published about him, how he chose to wear his cloak when he had to be out and about outside of classes, about the dragons. He didn't realize that he had voiced his thoughts until Sirius spoke next.

"The dragon will be easy Harry, we can deal with it later. I wanted to warn you about Karkaroff." The look on his face was quite grim as he continued, "He is a death eater, and not the only one at Hogwarts, either."

Harry nodded hesitantly; he had a decent idea who else Sirius was talking about as it was pretty obvious, after all.

"Karkaroff was in Azkaban when I was, though the Ministry let him out for naming a good number of other witches and wizards. I recommend using caution when dealing with him or his students – he's been known to _teach_ the dark arts."

"You don't think he had something to do with my name being put into the Goblet of Fire, do you?" Harry's memory of the night had him fairly convinced that even though Karkaroff might be a death eater, he wasn't involved. He'd been furious and called Crouch and Bagman every name in the wizarding book when they had said it was impossible for him to withdraw.

"I couldn't say for sure, Harry, but I do know that this is why Dumbledore wanted Moody at Hogwarts – Moody was the one to capture and lock up Karkaroff. As long as Moody is around, you should be alright; dark wizards are afraid of him, so afraid in fact, that I believe one tried to stop him coming to Hogwarts this year."

"Hermione doesn't quite have the same high opinion of him that you do. She's warned me not to let him get too close," Harry muttered, folding his arms over his chest as he stare into the fiery face of his godfather. He was at odds on the whole thing; everyone except Hermione seemed to believe Moody was the strongest ally he could have. He wanted to listen to the 'popular' vote, but Hermione had never been wrong before, either. She had known in their first year that it was Quirrell trying to steal the stone, that it was a Basilisk in the second year, and had encouraged him to hear out Sirius and Lupin last summer.

"Yes, well, I imagine that has something to do with the history between Moody and her _father_." The elder wizard couldn't help but grimace as he spoke – he would likely never get used to the fact that his arch nemesis actually had a child, and a brilliant Gryffindor one at that. "I'm not sure you have the luxury of being hesitant Harry, it is likely that Voldemort knows about the tournament and has death eaters working on his behalf. The ministry witch who vanished in Albania, did you hear about her?"

Harry nodded, he had read about her in daily prophet when school had started. "Bertha Jorkins?" "Yes, her. I knew her in school – she was an idiot and a busy body. I'll bet you all the galleons in Gringotts that she knew about the tournament before she disappeared, and Albania is where Voldemort was spotted last."

"This tournament is the perfect cover for an attack, so I want you to promise you'll study up on every defensive spell there is." Harry could feel the colour draining from his face at the thought, "It _does_ seem like the perfect plan from where I'm sitting. All they have to do is sit back and let the dragons do all the work."

"Ah yes, the dragons," Sirius seemed to lean in a little closer through the fire, "Don't be tempted to try a stunning spell, dragons are far too powerful to be taken down by a single wizard, but there is a fairly simple spell that should –" a shuffling sound from the staircase behind Harry cut the conversation short as he urged his godfather to go. He would rather face the dragon unprepared then allow Sirius to be spotted and possibly captured.

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><p>Hermione paused at the edge of the great lake, a flat stone grasped between her fingers, "Sirius really has a point, about Voldemort." She said quietly, casting a glance at her distracted friend. "Yeah, I reckon you're right about that," Harry grumbled, tossing a pebble into the almost black water. "Anything dangerous for me has usually got his touch on it."<p>

They passed a moment of silence, before Hermione dropped her flat stone and turned to look Harry dead in the eye, "Look, Harry, about the library last night, how much did you hear?" It was killing her to know if Harry had followed his usual bad habit of eavesdropping, or if he had high tailed it out of there the moment the path was unblocked like he ought to have.

Harry hesitated before answering, not sure if he wanted to admit to eavesdropping on a friend, though his hesitation told her everything she needed to know. "I left as you were cozying up to my nemesis." He tried to say it as light-hearted as he could, though he could tell he sounded slightly bitter from the look on her face.

"Harry –" She paused, unsure of how to address the issue with the proper delicacy, "I just, that is, oh bollocks. I'm sort of secretly dating Draco, and I won't take any guff for it. I knew him before I knew you and Ron, and he's not near as bad as you both seem to think." She let out a huff of breath as she finished her little explosion, and felt her face colour with embarrassment – so much for delicacy.

Harry chuckled softly and gave her a weak smile, "It's okay, Hermione, I think I understand. It doesn't mean I like him though, he's still a slimy git. But I think maybe you shouldn't tell Ron. He'd be furious." And he really did understand; although he didn't know a lot about the dynamics of the friendship between Hermione and Malfoy, he could remember the end of last year, when the blonde Slytherin boy had tried so hard to get Hermione to speak to him. He had thought even back then that there might be something bigger going on.

"Thanks Harry," she felt like a great weight had lifted from her shoulders as she turned back to the lake. "I think I may have an idea about your dragon problem. I was up most of the night thinking about it, and though my first few ideas are a bit out of your league, I only know about them because –" "Because you've always got your nose in a book," Harry chimed in, "I've been doing OWL practice papers and I have some more complicated spell books for practice, but I did find a simple one that should be just fine." She gave Harry a playful glare for cutting her off part way through, and grabbed his wrist, "I'll show you, we need to go to the library."

When they made it into the library, they found it surprisingly crowded. "Oh, _he's_ here again." Hermione muttered, tugging Harry though the stacks until they were far enough away from the gathering of Krum's fan girls to not be overheard. "Honestly, this is a library, must they be so loud?" She hated how loud they were when they followed their idol into her sanctuary.

Calming herself down slightly she emptied her bag onto an empty study table. Her charms, 101 defenses, and mother's journal slid across the polished surface, along with a quill and ink pot. "I was reading ahead in our Charms book, and the idea just sort of came to me."

Harry's gaze was caught on the large leather bound journal however. "What's this book?" He reached out to touch it, and Hermione reached out in a panic, trying to grab his wrist, only to miss and watch as Harry withdrew his hand after receiving a painful shock. "Sorry, Harry, I tried to stop you. That's a book I got out of Gringotts over summer. Katherine has it cursed so only I can pick it up." She carefully scooped the book back into her bag and opened the charms book instead.

Harry shook his hand, trying to get rid of the stinging pain in his fingers as he leaned over the table to get a look at the charms book. "It's ok, I should know better than to touch random journals." They shared a short chuckle before Hermione pulled out her wand and pointed to the third spell from the bottom of the left page. "Accio, the summoning spell." Harry read aloud, slightly confused, "What would I summon?"

"Your Firebolt. If the goal is to get past the dragon, and the contest is to show your strengths, then this should be a perfectly acceptable course of action." This was why she had been up all night – debating if this idea would even be possible. She knew, from reading, that the tri-wizard tournament was about using each wizard's strengths to complete the challenges, and showing their adaptability to dangerous situations, so she assumed that flying was fair play. Good flying took extraordinary magical skill and bravery – exactly what the tasks were meant to prove.

"You want me to out fly a dragon?" Harry had no clue how fast a dragon could fly, but he was pretty certain that even his Firebolt was no match. "Well have you got any _other_ clever ideas Harry?" "No, but –" Hermione picked up her charms and defenses books and made her way out of the aisle, "If you do want my help, I was planning to find an empty class in which to study and practice."

She had almost made it out of the library when she bumped into Lavender, and her books went flying. Harry was by her side in a matter of moments, helping her back to her feet as Lavender, and the rest of the fan club snickered. "You okay 'mione?" Harry asked, bending down to scoop up her bag, noticing that it felt far too light. "Uh oh, Hermione your bag is –"

"Excuse me, is this your book?" The heavy drawling accent behind them had both Gryffindor's spinning around to see Viktor Krum, holding the leather bound journal out to Hermione.

Her eyes dropped to the book before shooting back up to the brooding face of the Bulgarian seeker, he was holding her mother's journal without being shocked, and that could only mean one thing. "You – you – my book, I – thank you." She stuttered, reaching out and taking the book, instantly clutching it close to her chest, as Harry quickly retrieved her other two books from the floor.

She rushed out of the library and skidded into an empty classroom, with Harry hot on her heels. "Hermione, what –" He hesitated to ask her what had just happened, as he saw her pacing the room, with the journal opened to the first page.

"_Child, I have written this book just for the eyes of my progeny. Any other who try to read it, shall find a lovely little hex inside the pages._" She read the first sentence aloud, shaking her head softly. There was no way. She could _not_ have a brother. Her father would have said _something_, surely? Then again, maybe he didn't even know?

She turned to face Harry with a wounded look in her dark eyes, "Harry, I think I have a brother."

* * *

><p>End chapter!<p>

I had wanted to cover more in this chapter, but I also wanted to make sure I posted it today because I'm going to be away from my computer for the long weekend. And I made Hermione and Draco make up, which wasn't going to happen in this chapter originally.

I thought that this would be the best way to out Krum as her brother; show that he can hold the book meant only for the progeny of Katherine. For the record, I haven't yet decided if Severus knows about Krum, or if Krum is his son too. Although the journal will make far more sense if he is - I'll have to write up two versions, and see which sounds better.

Anyway, toodles for now - I have lots to do today.


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